


She's Thinking of Her All the While

by jckmd



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existentialism, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Humor, Metaphysics, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jckmd/pseuds/jckmd
Summary: ONGOING Season 7 rewrite that favors Bonora (romantic) and Bamon (platonic). Opens with Bonnie and Nora's first full conversation in 7x09 "Cold as Ice" and steadily departs from canon thereafter. Have no idea where it's going, could end up being 20k or 200k words. We'll see how it goes.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Nora Hildegard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a more ambitious fic than I usually write I think, so feedback and critique is appreciated just as much as kind words! Suggestions for storylines and topics are also welcomed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheels start turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  **Soundtrack:**  
>  Alex G - "Serpent Is Lord" from _DSU_  
>  Cocteau Twins - "Pearly-Dewdrops' Drops" from _The Spangle Maker_  
>  Caroline Polachek - "Door" from _Pang_
> 
>  **Spotify playlist** (all chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>

**April 11, 2016**

_“But do you really? Do you remember how much harder it was to adjust than you thought when you came back? Try doing that twice. Sometimes I have to pinch myself. Not to check whether or not I’m dreaming. To make sure I still exist.”_

_“Look, I told you, I ‘get it’ because we found our way back to ourselves the same way. I’m not trying to make light of all your very brave and not at all dramatic sacrifices to the cause.”_

_“Gee. Thanks. Such a good friend, as always.”_

_“What can I—”_

_“Wait, what do you mean by ‘found our way back the same way’?”_

_“You know what I mean.”_

_“No, I’m not sure I do.”_

_“Oh you do, you just won’t let yourself see it yet. See, when I got back it was all teary-eyed reunions with the bro and drinks and laughs and hey—oh, my girlfriend erased every single memory of our relationship from her brain. It sucked. You remember how much the thought of seeing her again kept me going while we were stuck in that damn place. But the thing is, what would have happened if Elena had remembered me? We’d do the back-from-the-dead fuck-like-rabbits honeymoon thing of course oh don't give me that look, catch up on everything we missed in each others' lives, have some nice dinners… and then where would I be now? Empty. Hollow. I would have lost myself when I lost her. We were confined to what I thought was my own eternal personal hell, and right after realizing it wasn’t and that we were actually still alive, you did your annoyingly-honorable-witchy-martyr-save thing for the millionth time and beamed me back to an overstuffed world without you, the one person who made the understuffed one bearable. At first it was a worse hell than ours. Everything so loud all the time, I couldn't hear myself think. Retracing my steps with Elena helped me remember who I was. Someone who lived. We go through so much that it’s easy to forget what happens in between. Even now that Elena’s gone I can still see what her being here showed me for the first time: that I like living. With or without her. Preferably with. But what I’m trying to say is that you have someone like that too. Who helped you learn how to be happy."_

_“_ Had. _I_ had _someone like that_. _And I_ don’t _like living without her. Only with her. I can’t take it.”_

_“Which brings me to my final point. I had to learn to live without Elena because we can’t bring her back. Our favorite Heretic, on the other hand…”_

_“What? Damon. Don’t fuck around with me. What are you talking about?”_

_“She’s alive, Bonnie. And we’re gonna go get her back for you.”_

* * *

**December 5, 2013**

> Dear Elena,
> 
> Remember when you told us to write you letters so that when you wake up you can read all about your best friends’ lives and feel like you were there? I haven't exactly been great about keeping up with that. (Good thing you won’t read this for another sixty-odd years, assuming I make it that long; all the teardrops will have dried by then.) Truth is, there wasn’t much to report during my stint as the Bourbon Babies’ chaperone for their Euro romp; I got drunk, Damon got drunker, Ric pretended to be drunker still and then when we thought he had passed out went around to any psychic he could find and either beat them up or begged them to help him bring Jo back—you know, typical summer fare. In Amsterdam Damon saved me from a truck in the street after only a few seconds of hesitation, so progress I guess. I spent most of the free days at all of the beautiful art museums and gardens and parks and libraries. Found some super cool obscure spells, I mean if you thought the pillow feathers were pretty… I’ll have Care take some videos for you. To tell the truth, I needed a vacation. Coming back from the dead a second time, especially this one with all the, you know, stabbings and arrows and stuff, kinda takes a lot out of you. But then part way through Lily’s demon children reappeared and started raising hell in Mystic Falls. I’ll spare you the details for now, not because I don’t want you to know but because it’s too hard to talk about—I like living at school but it breaks my heart not being able to go home. It just doesn’t feel safe anymore and it’s all because of those damn heretics, I mean Elena if only you

“Bonnie Bennett?”

> ...well speak of the fucking literal devil here’s

“You appear tired.”

“Nora, how... unexpected. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I have a toy. For a tot.”

Bonnie turns around, takes another swig of her double-whiskey eggnog. “You shouldn’t have,” she mutters in the most apathetic, deadpan tone possible.

“I didn’t actually, it was a… passive-aggressive gift for when Mary Louise came crawling back to me.” Nora holds up an unopened box of the board game SORRY and does a sort of half curtsy. “But that hasn’t happened, so…”

“Still very generous of you.” Bonnie opts for scathing sarcasm this time as she gets up from the bar and grabs the gift. _At least she didn’t lie, I guess._

“I know.” Nora smiles at the compliment, oblivious to the subtext. She tucks a lock of her long brown hair behind an ear

“Okay, you delivered it. Yay! That’s the end.” Even more derision this time. 

“But, how will the tot know the toy is from me?”

 _Unbelievable._ “I’ll tell ‘em!” Bonnie shines her best _please get the fuck away from me_ fake smile and walks over to the middle entryway of Scull Bar where rows of heavy-duty cardboard boxes teem with items of all sizes, colors, and price ranges. Nora follows on her heels like an obedient dog. “...and you’re still not leaving.”

“I… want to be more involved. Here. At Whitmore.” Bonnie slowly turns around, the barest tinge of surprise, possibly even curiosity, creeping across her face as Nora continues, “See, I recently enrolled in classes, and I—”

“You’re going to school here? Why?”

“Because I was, um, curious about college and, well, Mary Louise hated the idea, so.” Nora shifts her feet and adjusts her knee-length blazer dress, which is actually pretty cute. _Such a shame about everything else._

“Ah, spite. That’s a great reason for pursuing higher education.”

Nora sighs, finally picking up on the stilted irony. “Look, you clearly need help.”

“Not from an evil heretic who kidnapped my friend…”

“Are you really going to let that old news get in the way of a little charity?” A soccer mom in full garish winter sportswear drops a stack of giant boxes into Bonnie’s arms without so much as a _’scuse me_. “And I’m evil?”

“What about Matt? Remember him? My childhood friend who worked hard to become a deputy to protect the town from people like you, only to watch as you and your murdery circus troop beat, incinerate, and eat his entire graduating class just for fun?”

“It wasn’t just for fun, you forget your other ‘friends’ Stefan and Caroline who tried to blow us up in our own house—”

“So what was it for then?? Revenge?” Bonnie hisses, preventing her voice from instinctively raising. After the highly public events of the wedding disaster cover-up and the Mystic Falls evacuation, she wasn't sure how much more it would take for a few sharp observers at Whitmore to figure out that things on campus were more than they seemed. “How is that any better? You don’t understand how much damage you’ve caused. Matt can barely sleep from the nightmares he has of that day, which I only know because of Alaric since Matt won’t even speak to me. The friend I've known my whole life _blames_ me for you escaping the prison world and murdering his peers. I don’t feel safe going home to the town I grew up in. Alaric doesn’t feel safe raising his kids even anywhere near it. And it’s all because of you.”

Nora stares at her feet, clearly holding back tears in the face of the quiet but vicious outburst. “Bonnie, I—”

A few minutes ago Bonnie might have felt bad for her, but she’s too angry now. White-hot fury and indignance flows through her veins like molten metal. “But yeah, sure, if you want to make up for all of that by sorting some goddamn gifts, go ahead. Here.” She shoves the soccer mom's stack at Nora. “Collection booth. The far one. Far. On the other side of the damn bar, where I don’t have to look at your face. Capiche?” 

“Yes, of course. Just,” Nora sniffs a bit and wipes a hand across her nose, “just let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.” She walks away with her almost comically graceful Victorian strut, dutifully carrying the precarious pile of gifts.

Bonnie leans over one of the donation boxes, hands gripping the sides so tightly that her knuckles start to turn white. _Where did all that come from?_ she asks herself, trying to breathe slowly enough to appease the waves of heat and noise coursing through her body and brain. _Cool it, Bonnie. Bitch isn’t worth the aches and pains._ She detaches her still-trembling fingers from the rim of the box, grabs a teddy bear that reminds her of a smaller, cleaner Ms. Cuddles, hugs it close to her chest as if the squeezing motion will expel all of the anger like one of those toothpaste tube wringers. Finally her heart slows a bit and her breath returns to normal. Bonnie eases her embrace of the bear and holds it at arm’s length. “Under other circumstances, we could be pals. But I'm sorry Ms. Cuddles Jr., it's just not going to work.” She gently sets the fuzzy toy on top of the others and looks around for any other gift-mountain-touting moms; seeing none, she walks back to her spot at the bar, being careful not to look over to the collection booth where Nora was presumably stationed, and asks for a refill. 

> Nora. I’m sitting here at Scull writing you this letter and she just shows up with a gift for this Toys for Tots thing that Care somehow tricked me into helping with, a gift she didn’t even buy for the kid but for her arguably even more awful girlfriend, acting like it’s her key to turning over a new leaf after everything she did. I’m not sure if you’ll ever actually read this because it’s become more of a ranting journal entry than a letter to my magically sleeping best friend, but nothing else has helped so maybe writing it all out to “you” will. I’ve been different ever since I came back from the Prison World and I’m not sure whether I like it or not. I’m impulsive now. Selfish, vengeful, angry. Sometimes I think I scare even Damon—I know I don’t need to tell you, of all people, how concerning that is. I brought two people back from the dead with disastrous consequences just because Damon needed someone alive and Ric wanted Jo back. I didn’t stop to think about what would happen to me or them, I just did it because they asked. And that terrifies me. Do I even have principles anymore? Shouldn’t I be the cautious, conservative witch who’s always telling everyone to be careful with magic, like my Grams was? How am I even any better than Nora? I don’t kill people but if I were a vampire, who knows? I even

“Is that… my name?”

Bonnie whips around to see Nora somewhat adorably looming over her yet again. She hastily shoves the half-finished letter into her bag. “So let me get this straight. I all but scream at you because I’m so mad about everything you’ve done, and then you come back 15 minutes later and try to read a private letter over my shoulder?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—” Nora stops talking, closes her eyes, and takes two deep breaths like she’s about to give a breakup speech. “I didn't want to bother you again because I don't deserve you hearing what I have to say. But I have to say it. Bonnie, there isn’t enough time in the world to fill with my apologies, but here’s one more: I am so, so sorry. The truth is, since our family emerged from that dreadful prison world everything has changed, inside and outside of me. Malcolm is dead, Lily is dead, everything I thought I knew about Julian was a lie, the girl whom I believed to be the love of my life betrayed me and her own family… but most of all _I’ve_ changed. I am not the horrid sociopathic killing machine I was before the Gemini Coven rightfully imprisoned us. Lily forcing us to stay confined at first drove me to do things I’d rather not repeat, and afterward the guilt was almost too much to bear. Things got out of hand at the graduation ceremony and I felt even worse. I’ve tried so hard to apologize to Matt but he won’t hear any of it, and I certainly can’t blame him. Even before Mary Louise sided with Julian over Valerie she didn’t understand my desire to live in this world, to really _live_ , to appreciate the beauty of human existence and all I can learn from it. To her they’re just blood bags, always have been and always will be. I was so wrapped up in her for so long I never stopped to think about the person I could be rather than the monster I was.” Nora pauses to take a few breaths and looks up from the floor, upon which her eyes had been intently trained for the entirety of her monologue. “None of this is an excuse. I just wanted you to understand, because…” she pauses again, “well, I just feel like _you_ need to know. I can’t explain it but I am drawn to you, Bonnie. You seem to be someone who, well, knows herself. Actually _likes_ herself. Is happy. And I… I need to know how to have that.”

They’re looking directly into each others’ eyes at this point, Bonnie having swiveled around in her stool, eggnog forgotten on the wood of the bar. “Look, Nora… I get it. I’ve been around vampires for a long time. Vampires who have killed people, who still kill people. I mean, the guy I’d call my best friend is one of the worst. I know the rules are different, that in situations where a human might punch through a wall a vampire might tear someone’s throat out. I have learned how to reconsider what I thought was right and wrong in this world, to the point where I’m not even sure what those things are anymore, if they exist at all. But what I can’t control is how I feel. And right now, I _feel_ angry at you for hurting my friends. I _feel_ like I want you to either go back to the collections booth or leave so I can finish this letter.”

This time a tear does fall from Nora’s left eye. Bonnie feels a pang of guilt shoot through her gut. She doesn’t feel angry at all anymore. She doesn’t even really want Nora to leave that badly right now. She just doesn’t have anything else to say. “That’s okay, I… I understand,” the despondent heretic mutters. She reaches into her bag and pulls out an unusually sized tome bound in what looks like densely tattooed brown leather. “I, erm, have a gift for you too, if you’ll accept it.” She hands the book to Bonnie, who knows what it is as soon as her fingers make contact with the cover.

“A grimoire?”

“Yes. It’s one I found during our initial trek from New York to Mystic Falls in the prison world. As you can probably imagine, there wasn’t much to do in there besides trying to stay warm and reading because none of us wanted to waste our energy by siphoning it for magic. Beau and I would scour any libraries or bookshops along the way to see if we could find anything worth reading. You Americans publish a great deal of swill, even back then, but we unearthed a few gems. Here, though, in Mystic Falls, I made the greatest discovery of all, which I thought I’d lost when I left it behind in 1903. But as luck would have it, it was still hidden in the same gloomy old sub-basement behind the same loose pair of bricks, though buried under a considerably larger pile of dust.”

Bonnie undoes the small metal belt keeping the volume closed and opens it to the first page. “What am I supposed to be looking at here?”

“Well, for starters, that’s the first time I’ve seen it opened. I couldn’t even let me siphon away whatever spell locked it. I imagine your ancestors learned some tricks to keep their secrets from even the nosiest Gemini witch, and this is obviously one of them.”

“...my ancestors?”

“Yes, Bonnie, if I’m not mistaken, this is an original grimoire from Olivia Bennett, resident and apothecarist of Salem, Massachusetts in the late 17th century. Before even _I_ was born.”

“Nora I…” Bonnie gingerly flips through the pages at first, fearing fragility after so many years of decay, but the paper seems to be incredibly well-preserved from whatever spell had sealed it shut. “This is… I just can’t believe…”

“You don’t have to thank me. I don’t believe I deserve that at this point. But I do hope this shows you that I’m truly trying to do more than just make amends. This isn’t like that garish board game, Bonnie. I remembered this and got it for you, not because I wanted to make up for anything, but because I wanted you to have it. I hope you can believe that.” Nora dips her head once more and looks toward the door. “It looks as though the proceedings are dying down, I trust you’ll be able to handle things on your own?”

Bonnie reverently closes the grimoire and sets it on the bar, moving her half-full glass a safe distance away. “I’ll be fine, thank you. I appreciate the help and the gift.”

Nora gives Bonnie a small smile as she dons her winter wear and heads toward the entrance. She isn’t quite sure why, but she stands up a bit from the stool and calls after the departing heretic. “Hey, Nora!” 

She turns around, trying and failing to suppress the flicker of excitement that jolts through her. “What is it, Bonnie?”

“Maybe we… maybe we could meet up sometime and try out some of these spells. I also have some cool stuff I found in Europe that I could show you.”

“That sounds… lovely. I would be delighted.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Shall I take down your telephone number?”

“Mmmmm, not quite ready for that yet Ms. Evil Heretic.” Bonnie’s smiling so she knows it’s more lighthearted this time. “Can’t be giving out my digits to just anyone. You might just have to chance upon me here again.”

Nora smiles back before exaggeratedly scanning the room with her eyes. “Cozy place, this is. I suppose it won’t be torture sitting here until closing time every day, waiting patiently for the queen herself to arrive. _You_ might just have to find a new magic partner while I try out spells with…” she looks around again, “um, him!” pointing to a frat boy passed out in the armchair on a pillow of his own over-gelled fade.

“I’m dripping with jealousy,” Bonnie half-mouths, half-whispers; Nora’s almost out the door now but she knows she can still hear her.

Nora doesn’t say anything before she steps out into the bitter Virginia cold, just stares straight at Bonnie and smiles again, except it’s a different smile this time, one that surges like electricity through the air toward her, warm and alluring and sexy.

_Sexy?_

“Ahem.”

Bonnie whips around to see Caroline standing right behind her. “Care, hey…”

“I leave you here alone for the duration of exactly one birthing class and you spend it _flirting_ with the evil heretic who _kidnapped_ me??”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnie does her best to work through some stuff.  
> No Bonora this time :( but plenty in the next chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  **Soundtrack:**  
>  Fire on Fire - "Hangman" from _Fire on Fire_  
>  Nas - "Life's a Bitch (feat. AZ & Olu Dara)" from _Illmatic_  
>  Liars - "The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack" from _Drums Not Dead_
> 
>  **Spotify playlist** (all chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>

**July 28, 2015 | evening**

_"Why would I believe anything you tell me? All you've done is lie this whole time."_

_"Because no matter how horrible you think we are, we wouldn't deceive you about this."_

_"Yes, you would. You don't care about me. You don't care about her. I'm just a lab rat for you to test your ridiculous magic experiments, and she's just an easy way of controlling my emotional state for, again, said ridiculous experiments. You've done it over, and over, and over. Pray tell—why would I trust you now, of all times?"_

_"You have every right to hold hostility toward us. But I'm sure I don't need to remind you that we have never given you news of her death before. There's no ulterior motive behind my coming down here to tell you this. It's simply because we know you loved her, and as such you deserve to know she's gone."_

_"Get. OUT. GET OUT! I never want to see your dirty lying face again! The second I escape from here I will find you and I will ever so slowly shave off small pieces of your flesh and feed them to you as I—what... what is that...?"_

_"An extremely rare magical object. A grimoire, in fact, from a very old and very powerful witch. But you know that already, don't you?"_

_"No... stop this right this instant... you know nothing you know NOTHING—"_

_"You see this blood here, on the cover? That's Bonnie's blood. She bled to death after being shot multiple times by Armory security personnel. She was on her way to rescue you. She died because of you ."_

_"...I…. please..."_

_"I'll let you sit in here a few days so you can grieve. After that it's back to work. You're going to help us open this. Sweet dreams, Nora."_

* * *

**December 5, 2013**

"Um, flirting? What are you talking about?" Bonnie knows Caroline has her. Even if she was completely innocent she can feel a blush spreading across her face. _Damn it damn it damn_

"I have eyes, Bonnie! And super vampire hearing! I could hear every gross granular detail of your little meet-cute! I mean, you invited her to do magic together. How often do you do that? And you're ' _dripping_ with jealousy'? Seriously??"

"How long were you spying on me, exactly? And ah yes, since Whitmore is positively crawling with witches I have such an eclectic selection of magic partners to choose from oh wait I don't because Nora is the first one I've—"

"Why are you being so defensive? You're just proving me right! You have a _thing_ for the super old creepy demon murderer who killed Matt's friends and tortured me for days!"

"Caroline, let's take it down a notch," Bonnie soothes, with slightly gritted teeth. They'd just earned a bewildered look from a nearby freshman, whose twinkle of curiosity fortunately disappears into his red-rimmed eyes as he turns back to the textbook laid out on the table before him. "This is probably not the best place to fight about this."

"Ugh, you're right. But Bonnie!" Caroline opens her mouth like she's about to continue but instead just widens her eyes and gives Bonnie her patented _are you kidding me_ face.

"I know, I know." Bonnie sits back down at the stool where she'd been scrawling Elena's letter. "First off, I don't have a _thing_ for Nora. I barely know her. And I wasn't exactly nice to her when she first got here. But I just... I feel bad for her, you know? For one thing, she was so upset when we found out what Julian did to Valerie, and then for the girl she's been in love with for more than a hundred years to just run right back to him? I can't imagine. And she was here and all puppydog-like, trying to get more involved in school, something I think you _might_ be able to relate to..."

Caroline trades her serious friend-lecture face for one of adorable mock consideration. "Maybe."

"Anyway I let her help with Toys for Tots, we talked a bit, she gave an apology that she'd clearly been practicing for a while, told me she wanted to start over, and... I believed her. I know I don't owe her anything, especially my respect, but I really think she has a chance without Mary Louise holding her back."

"A chance? For what?"

"For good. Normalcy. A 'life' the way we know it. Not constant vampire hedonism and bloodlust but something more human. School, hobbies, friends. I can sympathize with wanting that."

"I suppose I can too." Caroline sighs, fiddles with her jacket, rubs her round belly affectionately—all signs that the blonde vampire isn't sure whether or not she should say something. "Do you ever wonder if we're bad people?"

Bonnie's taken back. Not exactly what she expected. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, everyone thinks of themselves as the good guys because their own interests are what matter most to them, right? We've done horrible things to help ourselves and our friends. _I've_ done horrible things. The image of all twelve of those witches dropping dead because of me is forever burned into my mind. All of the vampires that died when we killed Finn and Kol. And the guy I killed at the carnival. Carter. He had two sisters, an aunt he took care of. And I murdered him, for no reason." She's breathing quickly now, almost panic-attack speed, tears brimming in her brown eyes. "Oh my God, we're the bad guys, _we_ are the—"

"Caroline." Bonnie steps toward her friend and wraps her arms around the trembling shoulders. "Do you know what makes us good? This. Right here. Us recognizing the terrible things we've all done. Regretting the past but vowing to change in the future. You think I don't deal with guilt every day? I know it may not be as intense for me as it is for you but it is always there. Every time I do a spell I see flashes of myself hurting people with expression, all those people dying just so I could have more power... Of course I wonder if we're bad people. If we're the 'bad guys.' And I think the answer is that sometimes we are. But who decides? What impartial system of judgment is there to say who's on which side? There isn't one." Bonnie steps back from the hug. "I'm a witch. You're a vampire. We have dealt with things that most people think aren't even possible. We're still here. If we hadn't done some of those things, we might not be, and someone else would be instead. And you didn't murder Carter for no reason, Caroline. You accidentally overfed because you had no idea how to handle the hunger. And instead of wallowing in shame, you accepted the guilt and owned it. Grew from it. Look at you now: one of the most humanistic vampires the world has ever seen. Need I remind you of all the amazing things you did for that boy's aunt and sisters as well?"

Caroline extends her arms for yet another hug. She's still crying but she's smiling a bit now. "Bonnie Bennett, what did I do to deserve a friend like you?"

"If you ever find out, let me know." She chuckles softly and closes her eyes and nestles into Caroline's neck. "I'm glad we talked about this, actually. I think I needed to hear myself say all of that," she mumbles into the shoulder of the blonde's coat.

"I still feel so guilty."

"So do I. I, uh, don't think that goes away."

"Regrettable." Caroline finally turns away from Bonnie to look at her spot at the bar. "Um... did you drink _all_ those eggnogs by yourself?"

Bonnie pretends not to hear her. "So how was the birthing class?"

"Oh my GOD I thought you'd NEVER ask…"

The witch grins as her friend launches into a light-speed, exhaustively detailed recap of the woefully unprepared parents, Ric's unexpected dedication, and a nasty gossiping couple that apparently almost got their heads ripped off by vamp-mom. For a moment Bonnie tunes her out slightly and looks toward Scull's front door once more. She can't seem to get the image of Nora smiling at her and then disappearing into the cold winter night out of her head.

* * *

**December 6, 2013**

Bonnie closes her massive anthropology textbook with a satisfying _thunk_ and begins to transform her explosion of notes into something a bit more organized. "I'm finally done. Ugh, I can't believe I had to do homework on a _Friday_."

"You know, you could just try it my way and just compel some sprightly overachiever to do all of your assignments for you."

"One, you promised I would never have to hear stories about college-Damon. Shit, just _saying_ that makes me shudder. And two, are you really so drunk at—she looks at the clock—four p.m. that you've forgotten which supernatural species I belong to?"

"One, you wish you could hear those stories. I just sold the film rights the other day, actually." Damon takes another swig of bourbon straight from a bottle that probably cost hundreds of dollars. They spent months on end with nothing to do but talk and drink and Bonnie still has no idea what he was talking about half the time when he rants about aroma or mouth feel. Seems like a bunch of B.S. to her. "And two, you know I'm always more than happy to use my badass vamp powers to make your life easy peasy." He tilts the corners of his mouth upward in the infamous Damon smirk, the one that seems to absolve him of even the most egregious transgressions.

"Believe it or not, some of us prefer to actually earn our place in life rather than just floating through a plastic facsimile of happiness and occasionally biting off people's heads."

Damon raises his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, that was a bit much."

"No, no, not at all. But look, the reality of my existence is sort of predisposed toward that sort of thing, unfortunately. But while I fully plan to take the cure with Elena whenever she wakes up, I enjoy being a vampire. So,"—he grabs a glass from Ric's secret liquor drawer and fills it with a generous helping of amber alcohol before handing it to Bonnie—"here's to floating through a plastic façade of... whatever the fuck you said. And _more-than-_ occasionally biting off people's heads." Another smirk, another tilt of the bottle.

Bonnie holds her glass for a bit before taking a small sip.

"What's goin' on, Bon? What's with the fatalist soliloquizing followed by pensive silence? That's kind of my thing."

"I don't know, nothing. Caroline and I just had a weird conversation yesterday."

"Oh, now I can't _wait_ to hear this."

"We talked about whether or not we were bad people."

"Oh." Damon scowls and scratches his head with the hand holding the bottle, almost spilling it several times during the process but never wasting a drop. "Fun."

"I'm serious, Damon. You and I, of all people, have a lot from our past we have to live with. Is it ever too much for you? Do you ever lose faith in yourself?"

"No, Bonnie, I would _never_. I mean, imagine if I had this pervasive habit of doing something unspeakably and violently terrible after every minor inconvenience. Or of shutting off my humanity instead of making the effort to save my friends. Or of never telling anyone what I'm thinking because I can't conceive of them doing anything other than using it against me. Oh wait," hand to the mouth, eyes wide in sarcastic surprise, "I just remembered. I _am_ a horrible person."

"You know I don't believe that."

"Yeah, and I also know that you're an idiot!" A long, angry gulp from the bottle, a stumbling swagger. "And I'll only get worse. Without Elena I'm a ticking time bomb."

"Damon, stop. Now you're actually getting drunk. We've already had this conversation. You and I both know how much you've changed since you got back. How much _I've_ changed since _I_ got back. Remember that one evening in 1994, just a couple days before we finally saw Kai, when you vowed to me that you would learn to live without Elena? To find the same happiness in the real world as we scrounged from the tedium of our prison?"

"Yes, I remember Bonnie. I remember every damn conversation we had in that place because it was the _one time_ in my life I felt like I could actually think. But we're not there anymore. We're here, where there are billions of morons walking around and none of them are my girlfriend. And I have to deal with those morons every fucking day. Thankfully, some of them are... tolerable"—he gestures across Ric's desk to Bonnie, who is getting angrier by the second—but there's just shit going on all the time and I can't think and when I do think it's about how she's not here and how she won't be for the next God knows how many years and…" Damon sighs, straightens his shoulders, appears to almost sober up a bit, puts the bottle on the desk. "All jokes aside, Bonnie, I enjoy spending time with you. You're not a moron, and plenty of other people aren't too bad either. But this hole inside me? This void of nothingness where she's supposed to be? I can't fill it. Not by becoming a better person, not by 'living my life without her,' nothing."

"I would say I get it, but I know I don't. Just remember I lost her too. But you lost someone else, Damon. You can't just forget that."

"Oh God damn it, not you too."

"Stefan told me what happened."

"It was weeks ago, Bonnie! Insulting a woman on her literal deathbed isn't one of my finest moments, but I am so sick of everyone telling me how I need to feel about this person's death just because she gave birth to me. Family is a funny thing; I think there's no stronger bond than a family who loves each other, but without love it doesn't mean anything. I don't owe anything to someone if my only reason to forgive them is the fact that we share blood."

"I get that, and I agree. But it's okay to grieve for something else. You can feel sad for the loss of the possibility of having a real mother. I despised Lily and I'm not too broken up about her death either. You don't have to grieve her. You can grieve what she could have been."

Damon furrows his eyebrows, doesn't say anything for a few minutes. He taps his fingers on the neck of the bourbon bottle a few times but doesn't pick it up. "Do you ever wonder how different of a person you'd be now if your mom had stuck around?"

"Hardly ever anymore. I went through something similar to what you did when Lily came back when we found Abby to open Esther's coffin. I was so mad at her and her perfect little life she'd built without me that I could barely speak. Our deepest, most innate parts of ourselves are the ones that yearn for a loving parent, especially a mother, no matter how unattainable that is. And because of that we feel things we don't normally feel. Anger we don't know how to control."

"If I tell you you're right can we stop this therapy session? I'm buzzed but not _nearly_ drunk enough to delve into this shit right now."

"You don't need to tell me. I already know I am."

"Whatever, witch doctor." Damon leans back in the visitor's chair and puts his feet up on Ric's desk. Bonnie immediately swats them away.

"She forgives you, by the way."

"What?"

"Abby. She forgives you for turning her into a vampire."

"Oh."

"She's actually doing really well. I don't see her much anymore but she's learned how to reconnect with nature somehow. Maybe she can teach you."

"I'm glad to hear that Bonnie." She suppresses an appreciative smile at the center forehead wrinkle and raised eyebrows that meant Damon was actually being sincere. "It is one of my biggest regrets. And I have a _lot_ of regrets." He clasps her hand for a second, then pulls away in embarrassment. "But the only reconnecting with nature I'm interested in is having fun with Jo's stash, which I'm sure has an emergency supply here somewhere..." Damon leans over the desk and tries to root through the drawers.

"Not what I meant, asshole. And I'm not about to hotbox Ric's office anyway."

"Try living a little, Bonbon," Damon says with a smirk, biting into a Twizzler he managed to swipe out of Ric's snack basket.

"Exactly. I'd like to _remain living_ , which is why we're not going to fuck with my professor and your best friend's office when we're probably not supposed to be in here anyway."

"Do you think being a dad will mellow him out?"

"God no. He's gonna be a nutcase."

Damon grins, takes another bite of Twizzler. "Can't wait. And also, you misspoke. Ric isn't my best friend. Love the guy, but he's changed. I feel like I'm not good enough for him even more than before. You, Bonnie Bennett, are the person I would award with that designation."

Bonnie mimes accepting a medal and putting it around her neck. She places her hand over her heart. "I'd like to thank Katherine, the Mikaelsons, Silas, Qetsiyah, those Traveler shitheads, Matt's crazy vamp-racist friends, the Gemini coven, Kai, and gosh who knows who else for not killing me, just so could I receive this honor. I'm just,"—she's hamming it up, fake choking back tears, exaggerated inhales, the works—"so... so grateful—"

"Doing a _very_ unfunny bit to escape feeling uncomfortable during a genuine moment? You're becoming more like me every day, Bon. Better be careful."

"Thank you for saying what you said, Damon. That earned you a promotion from #12 to #11 on my list."

"I'll take it."

Bonnie's almost done packing up her books and notes into her bag. Next she does her best to rearrange everything on the desk so Ric won't be pissed whenever he comes in. "So hey, there's a big Christmas thing at one of the dance clubs near campus tonight. Last one before everyone leaves for break. You wanna go?"

Damon looks at her in bewilderment. "Why the hell would I want to go to that?"

"Because I'm going." Bonnie crosses her arms.

"Why the hell would _you_ want to go to that?"

"And here I thought they called you the 'fun brother'."

" _Fun_ is drifting a stolen car so hard that it flips out and you're left to climb out of a flaming wreck. _Fun_ is getting drunk with people I actually like spending time with." He looks up as if he's racking his brain. "Yep, that's about it. Lame college dance party didn't make the cut."

"Fine, loser, don't go. I am going to go dance my ass off because I have exhausted myself trying to make sense of a bizarre pseudo-resurrection stone, protect my town from creatures that shouldn't exist, dealing with endless friend drama, and studying for these stupid finals, which, for some reason, despite everything mentioned prior, I actually care about doing well on. I think I deserve a reward." She stands up, shouldering her bag. "Maybe I'll even get laid."

Damon's face screws up in disgust. "Ew. Now I'm definitely not going."

"But you could be my wingman, 'friend'..."

"If you knew me as well as you say you do then you'd know I'm a _terrible_ wingman. My charms are too much, I just end up stealing the person away every time." He shrugs in mock apology. "Especially dudes."

Bonnie throws her hands up. "UGH! Fine. You're impossible. I'm just gonna go alone, like the sad, friendless witch that I am."

"Why don't you go with Blondie?"

"She's pregnant, Damon! It's not exactly the best environment for restless witch babies still in utero! Plus she obviously can't drink and to be honest, being drunk around sober Caroline is utterly torturous."

"Can't argue with that. What about... hm. Wow, you really are friendless."

"Gee, thanks. Let's hope I make some new ones tonight, hm?" She starts to storm out toward the door.

"Bonnie, hey, wait. Let's hang out tomorrow. You can help Stef and I plan to kill Julian with V-card Valerie..."

"Well shit, if I didn't have FOMO before—"

"What the fuck is a 'Foam O'?"

"Just... mm." Bonnie does her best to cool down. "Don't hit me with these pity invites just because you're too proud to go to a dance club with your alleged 'best friend.' And even if I wanted to tag along with your lame planning session that probably isn't going to lead to anything good anyway, I have to go hand out the Toys for Toys gifts at the children's hospital. Which I _told_ you last week when I asked you if you wanted to come along. Remember? You said kids were just an opportunity for people to sublimate their own problems into inferior humans? I'm still telling Elena you said that."

"That was a joke, Bon, you know that... come on don't be mad at me I—"

"You're a terrible friend, Damon. It's hard not to—"

"What the hell are you two idiots doing?"

Damon and Bonnie both look toward the door of the office like a pair of deer awash in bright fluorescent headlights—the headlights being Alaric Saltzman's disapproving gaze burning the two of them to cinders. "We were just—"

"Out. Now. I don't have time for this. We'll discuss the lessons about privacy and personal space—that you _should_ have learned when you were FIVE—later."

The deer remain frozen.

"OUT!"

* * *

> Dear Elena,
> 
> ~~Remember when you told us to write you letters so that when you wake up you can read all about your best friends' lives and feel like you were there. (Good thing you won't read this for another sixty-odd years, assuming I make it that long; all the teardrops will have dried by then.) Truth is, there wasn't much~~ okay you know what? This isn't a redo. You will have read the last letter I wrote because I don't have anything to hide from you. You were my best friend when you were awake and you're still my best friend when you're asleep. I ~~want~~ need to tell you everything. And "everything" is that I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. Earlier today I realized how alone I really am. Damon is a good friend deep down but he's just so hard to deal with, and he never follows through. Both Care and Alaric are pretty much in their own world right now. My mom and I don't talk much. I haven't made any friends in any of my classes because I've been having to make up so much work at home after constantly driving back and forth between Whitmore and Mystic Falls to deal with all this bullshit. It's hard right now, you know? But I'm sticking to my plan. I promised myself that after I was done studying this week I would go dancing, and that's what I'm gonna do. I have this awesome red dress someone named Freya from New Orleans sent me, her address is on the box so I should probably send something back as a thank you, I've never met her but it fits perfectly, oh my God Elena I wish you were here to dress up and go out with me I miss you so fucking much. There is so much I want to tell you, really tell you, out loud to your face while we sit on your bed and giggle at nothing. I don't accept that I'll never see you again, and I will go to my grave vehemently believing otherwise.

Bonnie scoots back from her desk a bit. The letter isn't quite done but she can't finish it at the moment; the tears are falling from her eyes uncontrollably now and the piece of printer paper was in danger of becoming a pulpy mess. The purple Sharpie pen drops to the floor. She hasn't cried like this in a while: great, heaving, sinusy sobs; streams of saline and snot down her cheeks and chin; arms held tightly against her body as it's mercilessly wracked with spasms. Everything is so far, so far beyond her and she lets it slip away for a moment, just for a brief breath she watches as reality departs into nothingness before her, what were once muffled wails now whimpers of despair. "I need you, Elena," she whispers breathlessly to no one.

And then the moment of unbearable grief is over. She wipes her face and massages her sore biceps, picks the pen up off the floor, grabs her phone from the nightstand and unlocks it. Not a single notification blinks on her lock screen. _Figures_. She swipes over to her contacts and scrolls to Jeremy's name for the millionth time, thumb hovering over the call icon yet never committing as always. _You only want to talk to him because you don't have anyone else. He's moved on and he doesn't need you bothering him._ She sighs and sets her phone back down.

A knock at the door. Bonnie hastily cleans herself up and walks across the dorm room to answer it. She opens the door to see the faces of Grace and Anika, roommates who lived down the hall from her. "Hey! Bonnie, right?"

"...that's me," Bonnie replies apathetically, before realizing she could stand to be a bit more friendly. "What's up, guys?"

"Well," Grace, the taller and fairer-haired of the two, begins, "I don't know what you have going on tonight, I mean, personally I'm probably way too swamped with finals to be doing anything anyway, but Anika and I and a few other people from the building were gonna have a few drinks in the lounge and then carpool over to that thing at Bells. Do you like dancing?"

Bonnie grins. "So, just out of curiosity—did God send you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up.
> 
> **Soundtrack:**  
>  Frosty - "Frosty the Snowman" from _The Snowman EP_ (keep an open mind this song is HEAT)  
> Billie Eilish - "wish you were gay" from _WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?_  
>  My Bloody Valentine - "All I Need" from _Isn't Anything_  
>  Interpol - "NYC" from _Turn on the Bright Lights_  
>  Polmo Polpo - "Romeo Heart" from _Like Hearts Swelling_
> 
>  **Spotify playlist** (all chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this one ended up being almost as long as the previous two combined. I just can't rip myself away from these characters. I should probably learn how, though, because the semester started on Monday. Hopefully I can keep a regular update schedule on top of school and work. Any and all support means a lot and motivates me. I'm writing this for them and for me but also for you.
> 
> Also, don't worry; I haven't forgotten about Mary Louise! She will be somewhat central in the next chapter. You can't let a 133-year relationship go that easily.

**< date(s) unknown, closest approximation: July 28, 2015>**

_"Do I... know you?"_

_"I shouldn't think so."_

_"Who are you? What is this place?"_

_"I will answer your questions in good time. But first there is a conversation we must have."_

_"A conversation?"_

_"How did you get here, Bonnie? How did you come to be standing in your Grams' living room with me across from you?"_

_"How the hell do you know my... wait. I don't remember how I got here. I haven't even been to Mystic Falls in years. What's going on?"_

_"Think, Bonnie. Think about what happened. What sent you here. What_ caused _you to be here."_

_"I remember I... Damon was trying to... and the fire everywhere and then they... they came at me their faces were... oh no. Oh my God no."_

_"Say it out loud. Assert it. Believe it. This is important."_

_"I'm... dead. I'm dead."_

_"Exquisite. It takes most people much, much longer. Not you, though, Bonnie Bennett, not you."_

_"You promised to answer my questions. If I'm dead then why I am here? With you?"_

_"I will need to tell you many things before my explanation will make sense. But to begin, let me introduce myself. My name is Arcadius."_

* * *

**December 6, 2013**

Bonnie isn't usually a fan of loud music. She prefers it in the background, hovering at a level just below conversation, audible but unintrusive, or turned to a volume comfortable for her ears if it's flowing through the wires of her headphones. Loud music is something undesirable, an annoyance: burbles up through the seams of someone else's fun, shakes the floorboards and the bedframe when one is trying to sleep, tears tranquility.

But right now it isn't loud enough. It _can't_ be loud enough. On the sprawling, beer-soaked dance floor, packed to the brim with sweaty twenty-somethings, all time and space slips away and Bonnie is a searing flame in slow motion, everyone else turning around her, the galaxy's center. She feels unstoppable in her stylish, _extremely_ flattering dress from the mysterious Freya, its simple sweeps of well-aerated polyester hugging her curves perfectly, its defiant scarlet a spark of heat amidst the low light and masses of dark clothing. Either this Freya was an expert seamstress and had been stalking her for the express purpose of fitting her for a dress; or—and Bonnie can't believe this is actually the _more_ likely scenario—given that she lives in New Orleans, she's a witch. Either way, it seems prudent to get in touch, but for now no thought about magic or mysterious gifts or possible portents enters her mind. There is nothing else to think about other than the pounding bass of DJ Krampu$'s surprisingly high-quality Christmas song remixes and the movement of her own body. Grace and Anika and their friend Sung-Ho—a tall second-year she met briefly who only seemed to know two words: "lacrosse" and "bro"—are nearby and she's grateful for them and the free drinks they gave her before they all drove over but no mere college student can join Bonnie in this intense, therapeutic catharsis of movement and rhythm, no one except her can truly understand the _weight_ of things she's seen and done and how euphorically liberating it is when that weight lifts for even a millisecond, no one except—

"Is that... Beau?" she asks no one.

"WHAT?" Grace yells, not hearing the words Bonnie spoke at normal volume for obvious reasons.

Bonnie makes the universal _don't worry about it_ gesture at her and Grace shrugs and goes back to dancing. Yes, she's sure now, that _is_ Beau over there, and the sight of yet another heretic at _her_ school has forcibly removed Bonnie from her moment of timeless bliss, and she is _pissed_. She storms toward him, not-so-gently nudging the throng of dancing bodies out of her warpath, finally reaching the spot near the back of the club where he leans against the wall of the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Beau, startled, drops his mesmerized gaze from the obscenely large red, green, and white disco ball that hangs from the building's high ceiling. He gives her a questioning look and cocks his head slightly to the side.

"Don't play dumb with me. First Nora shows up at the bar, now you're here? I know you're planning something."

Beau closes his eyes and shakes his head vehemently. He sets the two drinks he's holding on a stray chair next to them. He points to the disco ball, then to the mass of people, then brings his hands near his chest and gyrates his shoulders in an awkward dance.

"Do you _really_ expect me to believe you just came here to dance?"  
Beau shrugs earnestly, as if to say, _it's the truth._ Bonnie thinks she believes him but she's not ready to be nice just yet. She prepares to resume her interrogation when a familiar voice floats toward her ears.

"Hey, Beau did you get the—"

Bonnie turns her head enough to see Nora just as Nora sees Bonnie. She's just come out of the bathroom and looks incredible in a short, modestly lacy dress, gently cinched at the waist and flaring out in folds of stiffer night-black fabric at the bottom. But Bonnie doesn't see the dress at first because the two's eyes lock as soon as their gazes intersect, an electricity that each either neglects or refuses to acknowledge surging through the space between them, and again time itself seems to melt like a forgotten candle.

Nora is the first to break the standoff, seeing Beau shoot a curious look at her in her peripheral vision. "Bonnie. How unexpected," she greets, probably subconsciously but perhaps intentionally echoing words said to her just a day earlier.

"Nora."

Upon seeing Bonnie the heretic's posture immediately changes. She's more nervous, unsure; anxiously tugs at the skirt of her dress. "Is it okay that we're here? Beau and I didn't have anything to do, and I haven't been on campus long but not having anything to do on a Friday night seems to be a capital crime around here." She smiles a bit. "But we don't want to..."

"So it's really true. You're _just_ here to dance."

"Is that so hard to believe? It's difficult to go out and do things, let alone find ways to have fun at all, when one sits desiccated in the same spot for a century. We're just people, just like you."

"No, no, that's not what I meant…" Bonnie chuckles. "It's just funny, you know? To see people who might have tried to kill me a few weeks ago at a dance club."

"I know, Bonnie, I know, which is why we're totally fine with going somewhere else if—"

"No." Bonnie puts her hands on Nora's shoulders. She doesn't notice the brunette softly shudder at her touch. "Stay. Have fun. As long as it keeps you from eating people." She looks at both heretics now. "No eating people, can we agree on that?"

Beau nods. "Of course," Nora agrees. "We've actually... we haven't been feeding from the vein. I saw how well your friend Caroline does with the blood bags and well... I told you I was never the biggest fan of the violence that comes with being a member of our species. A nonviolent solution for sustenance seems the right thing to do, and luckily it's a lot easier to access properly preserved blood in the 21st century."

"Thank you for telling me. That makes me feel a lot safer." Bonnie turns her head. "And a lot less concerned about the wellbeing of my fellow students." It sounds like sarcasm coming out of her mouth, but she's being genuine. _What a world._

"You no longer need to worry about us, Bonnie. I can't speak for Julian or Mary Louise, but Beau, Valerie, and I have completely abandoned our old ways. I don't expect you to believe me right now, but I will prove myself to the point that someday you will. I promise you that."

Bonnie is speechless. She opens her mouth as if to respond and then closes it again. Then she smiles. "That means a lot, Nora. I also appreciate that you seem to somehow understand how _much_ it means."

Their eyes are locked again, the barest hint of a smile on each pair of lips. Beau makes a raspy gurgling noise that Bonnie interprets as him clearing his throat. They both look at him. He holds up his empty drink glass and gestures toward the bar. "Yes, of course, go! You're a grown man aren't you?" Nora says, laughing. Beau grins at her before turning and walking around the edge of the dance floor to the front of the club. Bonnie squints her eyes, grabs the bridge of her nose, and shakes her head vigorously as if shirking a fog that had gathered around her head. _Why do people keep catching us like this?_

"So..."

The witch looks up to see Nora with her arms behind her back, slightly slinging her weight from side to side adorably tapping the toes of her high-heeled feet on the floor in front of her. "So," Bonnie echoes.

"Care for a drink?" Nora asks before gulping down the last of whatever obscure pale green concoction swirled in the martini glass.

"Absolutely," Bonnie responds, not too excitedly, finishing the full sentence in her head: ... _because_ _I'm not even_ remotely _drunk enough for this at the moment._ This. Whatever the hell "this" is. Bonnie hasn't the faintest idea. She's never been attracted to another girl before. It's not that she's opposed to the idea, but rather that her brain can use precedent as more evidence for why absolutely _nothing_ is going on between her and Nora. Nora, the almost 200-year-old mass murderer. Nora, the evil heretic that Bonnie did everything in her power to prevent from escaping the prison world. Nora, the vengeful vampire who tortured Caroline and butchered Matt's academy class and killed God knows how many more people in Mystic Falls and

Nora, who stands with her arm outstretched, holding her hand out to Bonnie, almost absent-mindedly, almost as if it's just instinct, wordlessly asking her to take it.

She does.

* * *

"Okay, so... first question: I don't even know your last name." Bonnie giggles. They've done a few shots and are each nursing a vodka cranberry; Nora surreptitiously spikes hers with small vials of blood she's packed in her purse. "That's not a question." They're both on the south end of tipsy and decided to interview each other. Beau is on the other side of the bar talking to the gorgeous bartender who has to be at least 5'9", making her laugh with every sentence he writes in the small notebook he passes to her. "What's your last name?"

"Hildegard." Nora downs the rest of the crimson cocktail. Now _she's_ the one not drunk enough. "I'm not exactly up front about it because, well... the Hildegards were awful. To everyone, and especially to me. To think—we get out of that loathsome place after more than a century only to see the Gemini coven is still as cruel and hateful as it's always been…" she gestures for a refill to the stocky, swarthy bartender manning their side of the bar. "They _were_ so loving. Right up until the moment they discovered I was broken. I think I was about four or five when I accidentally siphoned some random old trinket in the house. Then it was off to this horrible, cold, dusty house where they experimented on us with spells and potions and countless other things to try and 'fix' us. That's where I met Mary Louise." She smiles at the bartender as he brings her the new drink, blinking away tears from her eyes as quickly as they've formed. "We grew up in there together. Valerie too. Some other girls. They kept the boys somewhere else. We barely ever saw the light of day until Julian came. Knowing now what he's done, the people, the _children_ he's killed, what he did to Valerie... I still think of his face that day. At first it was that of the devil: fangs, popping veins, red eyes, you know. But then it softened. He saw our pale emaciated hopeless faces and knew he needed to save us. I cherished that memory through the hardest parts of our journey. I was 14. Mary Louise two years my senior. They did more to her since she was the eldest. She scared them, I think. So I know why she sided with him. We had nothing, worse than nothing, and then we had him. But Valerie was our sister long before that; Mary Louise just refuses to see it." Nora laughs bitterly. "You asked for my last name and here I am on a tearful tangent about my ex. Some conversationalist I am."

Bonnie ignores the nervous backpedaling. "I get the sense that you've never really said any of this out loud to anyone before," she says with as much compassion as she can muster.

Nora's eyes widen, ever so slightly. "I haven't, no."

"Then that's _good_. I am here to listen to you. Because talking about things helps."

"Thank you, Bonnie."

"What happened to the others? The girls who were with you when Julian came?"

"They were much younger. Died during our voyage east. Crossing America was no cakewalk in those days. If we hadn't had a vampire tour guide we'd never have made it anywhere."

"I'm sorry. Should I even ask you questions about it? Does that make it worse?"

"Not at all. It happened, whether I like it or not. And you're right, it's good to say it aloud. It _feels_ good."

"I'm glad."

They just stare at each other, in silence, for the briefest of moments.

"How about we transition to less gloomy subject matter? Back to the interviewing, but let's keep it simple." Nora's starting to slur her words a bit. It's absolutely adorable.

Bonnie smiles. "As you can see, I'm not exactly in a state for anything more than simple."

"Me neither." Bonnie gestures to herself and how she's sort of half sitting half slumped on the bar stool, one leg slung haphazardly over the other with that distinctly drunken carelessness, except she gestures with her drink hand, causing a sizeable amount of vodka cranberry to slosh onto the floor, narrowly missing the bottom hem of the dress.

They look at each other again and burst out laughing. "That's quite the disaster you just dodged," Nora says between giggles.

"Oh, it wouldn't be no thing. I haven't told you about my Grams' legendary stain removal spell?"

"What? You're having a laugh."

"Not at all. It is Sheila Bennett's greatest legacy. Puts the white-eyebrowed alien man himself to shame."

"White-eyebrowed alien man?"  
"Mr. Clean! Here, I'll show you a picture." _Why does she feel the need to show her a picture?_ A text from Grace. Two texts from Grace. _Where are you?_ and _Hey sorry we couldn't find you, we're leaving to go a house party, let us know if you need a ride_. "Ha!" Bonnie doesn't laugh; she says the word out loud. "Some friends."

"Sorry?"

"The people from my dorm who gave me a ride here. They ditched me. I could be passed out in the trunk of some guy's car for all they know. 'Couldn't find' me? We're sitting right at the goddamn bar!"

"They sound like arseholes."

"Yeah, tell me about it! What the hell." Bonnie sighs and chucks her phone back in her purse, sobered up a bit, Mr. Clean forgotten. "I knew it was too good to be true, finding new friends right after I finally realized how shitty of one Damon is _and_ that I don't have any others who are actually here with me."

"I hate to break it to you, Bonnie, but your generation of humans is, by and large, quite abhorrent. I've been here less than a year, and the things I've seen just normal people do... did you know this summer Valerie got hit by a car and the devil-children just drove away?"

"Jeez. Almost makes up for how many of them you killed."

Nora looks at her.

"Hey," Bonnie protests, "you said it yourself: 'it happened, whether I like it or not.' And that means we can make horribly tasteless jokes about it."

"I'm not sure I follow your logic, but I suppose you're right. I can't force you to forget."

"No, you can't. But I _can_ forgive. And I do. I forgive you."

Nora's lips tremble. "You do?"

"I do. But I'm not so sure about Caroline. Pretty sure about Matt. I'd wager you could win Damon over. In any case, if you're going to be around, going to _school_ here, you have more than just me to prove yourself to."

"I know that. And I am working on it, I promise you."

"Thank you."  
They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Suddenly Nora says, "Me."

Bonnie looks at her, uncomprehending. "What?"

Nora laughs. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that other people can't hear the conversations I have in my head. I had a lot of those when I was desiccated. I meant, you have me. You said you don't have any other friends here with you. But I'm here."

"Yes, you are." Bonnie's never really looked at her eyes this close. They're a beautiful light emerald green that dances as it reflects the flashing, sweeping streams of color being beamed from the ceiling. "I like talking to you." _Wow, she really_ is _drunk._

"I like talking to you too." Nora shifts like she can't decide whether to move closer to or away from Bonnie.

The witch notices and, as it's getting kind of late and the room is starting to get so humid that her dress is sticking to her skin and her feet hurt from dancing and she's feeling comfortably warm and fuzzy from all the alcohol but mostly for a reason she doesn't understand at all, blurts out, "Hey, do you want to get out of here?"

"I—" Nora glances across the bar.

Bonnie forgot about Beau. The realization sobers her up from the Bonnie she'd been when she blurted out the question. Then she looks at Beau, laughing at something the bartender is saying to him as she pours a drink, and realizes that not only would inviting Beau cover up her initial meaning, but also that she could imagine worse scenarios than hanging out with who, at the end of the day, are two people that know how to have a good time. Truly a wonderful substance, alcohol. "Yeah, of course!" she says in response to a question that wasn't actually asked.

"Sorry?" Nora's confused.

"I meant Beau should come too."

"Oh." Is that gratitude? Disappointment? "Hold on, I'll ask him." Nora waves her hand at Beau, who's so wrapped up in his conversation he doesn't see it for about thirty seconds or so before noticing and focusing his ears on her. Bonnie can't tell what Nora's saying; she's whispering behind her hand. Beau shakes his head. Nora looks surprised, doesn't say anything but gives him a look that seems to say _are you sure?_ He jerked his head toward the bartender, who was currently serving someone else, and then raised his eyebrows twice in quick succession with a smile. Bonnie's laughing now. _This man's been stuck in a time capsule of 1903 for over a century and he has_ game _? I suppose the not-talking thing doesn't hurt. If only literally every other man in the world could learn that skill._

Nora's looking at Beau with an expression that's half wordlessly saying _you sly dog_ and half responsible guardian face, even though Bonnie is pretty sure that Beau is much older than Nora. Beau holds up his cell phone and flashes a reassuring smile, as if to say, _I'll be fine._ What neither Nora nor Bonnie know is that even if Beau weren't chatting up the sexy bartender he'd probably still stay behind. It's been a long time since he's been a wingman for someone. He wants to do it right.

"Well, apparently my brother has adapted to this world far more quickly than anyone, especially me, could imagine," Nora says with a bit of bewilderment but mostly pride as she turns to face Bonnie again. "And I thought _I_ was getting the hang of things."

"You are," Bonnie reassures. "I saw your Instagram. It's very nice."

"Well if you could just help me understand what this bloody social media thing even is anyway then…"

"But you never answered."

"What?"

Whether it's the alcohol buzz, the energy of a room filled with so many moving people, the power of a killer dress, or something else, Bonnie is confident now. The uncertainty is completely gone. She doesn't regret asking in the first place, and she doesn't regret it when she asks again. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Nora doesn't look right to Beau this time. She's looking at Bonnie already, and remains doing so. "I would love nothing more."

* * *

Bonnie is doubled over with laughter, having to clutch the railing of the staircase leading up to her floor to keep from collapsing. "I can't take you anywhere, I swear," she says in gasps.

"What's so funny? I was simply being chivalrous!" Nora had kissed the cheek of their turbaned, bushy-bearded Lyft driver upon reaching the dorm, his face reddening endearingly as she said to him in her most regal English voice, "Your selfless generosity will not be forgotten." Bonnie knows the exact quote because she repeated out loud several times in uncontrollable mirth after explaining the concept of rideshare to Nora, who was under the impression a random gentleman just happened to pull up at just the right moment and give them a ride out of the goodness of his heart.

"I still don't understand how he actually gets the money." Nora's putting on a petulant act, sulking a bit, but mostly trying to not laugh along with Bonnie, whose guffaws have quieted to chuckles.

The witch holds up her phone the way Beau did at the bar. "Comes right out of my account. And look, we can rate our drive with Sai! I say a solid five stars: special bonus for his 'selfless generosity' and gentlemanly kiss-receiving etiquette."

"Alright, you've made your point. I'm a musty old Victorian vestige and you're just the most savvy new age gal who ever lived."  
"Aw, hey," Bonnie says in a playfully mock-comforting tone as they finally reach the door of her room. She sniffs exaggeratedly. "You're not... musty."

"Hilarious. HILARIOUS." Nora's given up her poker face and is laughing now too as she follows Bonnie through the foyer. "You have... a fireplace?"

Bonnie doesn't think about it because the booze still flows in her blood and she's focused on Nora, but this is the first time she's come back to her room at night without at least running her hand over the set of drawers that Elena used to keep her stuff in. Her and Caroline had decided to keep it in the room as a reminder. But somehow, Bonnie's not thinking about Elena right now.

"Yeah... quite bougie, I know…"—Nora shoots her a quizzical look—"oh it just means super fancy or rich, I mean a fireplace in a college dorm? My mom says hers was half the size of this and had a horrible cold hard tile floor, so I guess I lucked out. By having a _very_ determined vampire with the ability to compel an apparently stubborn student housing coordinator, that is."

"That does help." Nora plops down in one of the armchairs. "So are you going to build one for your chilly guest or not?" She wraps her arms around herself and does a theatrical shiver.

"Oh, sure, just put your feet up anywhere too, why don't you," Bonnie shoots back. "I am going to build one,"—she's pulling some pieces of wood out of the metal bucket to the side of hearth and throwing them onto the grate—"but not"—she takes a deep breath and whispers _incendia,_ flames instantly igniting the pile of small logs—"because you asked me to."

"Oh? Why then?" Nora asks, warming her hands, then nodding at Bonnie's wordless offer of a drink.

Bonnie pours them two glasses of bourbon—ugh, _damn_ him, he really has corrupted her—and hands Nora one before striding over to her bookcase and grabbing the small wooden chest she uses to prop up her Grams' grimoire. "To conceal a different kind of smoke, of course." She sits down in the chair next to Nora's and pulls one of several neatly rolled joints out of the chest. "Wanna get high?"

Nora looks at her quizzically. "High?"

"Yeah." Bonnie didn't really think about this. "You didn't have, uh, cannabis back then? Marijuana? Weed? Devil's lettuce?"

"Oh! Is it like opium? I've had that a few times. That was nice."

Bonnie barks a startled laugh. "No, no, nothing like that. It just takes the edge off. For me, at least. When I was in high school I used to think drugs and the people who used them were below me. I was kind of a judgy snob in general for most of my teenage years." She sighs. "My ex changed my mind about it. Some of my best memories of him are the conversations we'd have while sharing a joint or something. I haven't seen him since I got out of the prison world, but the smoking has really helped. It's like I still have a piece of him with me, because I can't have the whole thing. And like I said, it takes the edge off."  
Nora's face is solemn. "I'm sorry about your ex. Do you still love him?"

Bonnie didn't expect that question, and she also didn't expect how easily the answer comes: "No. I moved on a long time ago, I think, and so did he. Not only is it pretty much impossible to rebuild a relationship after one person thinks the other is dead for a whole summer, but we'd also just become different people. I still think about him so much because focusing on losing him is somehow easier to handle than everything else, if that makes sense."

"It does," Nora reassures. "I can't imagine having to go through that. Coming back to life, I mean."

"Well, luckily I didn't have to add 'adapting to a new century' to my to-do list," Bonnie jokes back. She takes a sip of bourbon. "Hey, didn't we agree to quit it with the gloomy talk?"

"For us it's near impossible to avoid, it seems."

"Well let's try our best, shall we?"

They sit in silence for a few moments, the only sound in the dusky, amber-lit room the crackles and pops of the fire.

At the exact same time, Bonnie says "Well I didn't mean we shouldn't talk at all" and Nora says "So are we gonna smoke that or what?"

They both laugh at the clash. "Do you really want to?" Bonnie asks, surprised.

"I'm a 169-year-old vampire/witch hybrid. I think I can handle ground-up bits of a plant wrapped in paper."

Bonnie laughs. "That's the spirit." She presses her thumb and forefinger to the end of the joint. To her delight, it smolders orange as if it were lit with a lighter; she's been practicing small wordless spells but still isn't 100% at it. She takes a drag, holds it in her lungs for a bit, turns slightly to see Nora examining her as if she's a particularly fascinating animal at the zoo, and breaks out in a fit of coughing laughter.

"Well aren't I just the funniest thing in the world to you tonight?" Nora remarks incredulously, smiling at Bonnie's watering eyes as she continues to cough-laugh.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Bonnie sits back up and wipes the tears from her face. She hits the joint again and passes it to Nora, who accepts it delicately, as if it were a priceless piece of jewelry. "You're just, I don't know. You make me laugh."

Bonnie wasn't sure if that came across too mean—she can already feel her thoughts starting to melt a bit at the edges—but Nora smiles and she immediately feels better. "Well, Bonnie Bennett, you are lucky that I happen to love listening to you laugh." She brings the joint up to her lips and inhales, not seeing Bonnie open her mouth, about to explain the proper procedure, just the witch's impressed expression as she blows out a thick cloud of smoke without so much as a cough. "Vampire lungs," she says with a cute smile and miniature curtsy, before taking a second hit. She passes it back to Bonnie. "See? No big—"

Bonnie's grin spreads from ear to ear as she watches Nora's eyes start to unfocus and her lips form a peaceful, careless smile. "Not much of a vampire tolerance though, I guess?" she quips with a chuckle.

An awestruck "ohh" is all Nora has to offer in response. She slumps back into her chair and stares at the fire. Bonnie puffs on the joint a bit and then puts it out; Nora's clearly good to go and her own tolerance is pretty low from mostly abstaining during finals week. But the last few are enough for the warm waves to wash over Bonnie as well, and she too sinks into the embracing coziness of her chair. "Do you mind if I put on some music?"

"Ohh," Nora says again.

Bonnie explodes in a fit of silent giggles. She composes herself. "Okay, well just let me know if you'd rather I turned it off." She quickly taps to her nighttime playlist, realizes she's in the wrong app, closes out of it, forgets why she has her phone, oh yeah the music, goes to Spotify, plays the playlist. The first song is "NYC" by Interpol. _Well that's perfect_.

Bonnie sits up and looks over as the song starts. Nora looks a bit alarmed at first, looks around rapidly before seeing the speaker nearest her, then relaxes and leans back, closing her eyes this time. Bonnie does the same. The room fills with reverb-soaked guitars, rolling drums, wistful croons. It's at a volume level such that the burning of the fire can still be heard. The sound of the two together is magical.

After a few minutes of the song, Nora says, "I've never felt this comfortable in my entire life." She sighs contentedly.

A sudden realization causes Bonnie's eyes to light up. "You know what would be even more comfortable? If we changed out of these damn dresses!"

Nora joins her in looking down and sees that they're both still wearing their slightly sweaty evening wear. They burst out laughing. "Look at us, the most bougie fireplace-hogs the world has ever seen," Nora says.

"Hey, there you go!" Bonnie exclaims, complimenting her use of the word. "Wait. The hell is a 'fireplace hog'?"

"That's what I called the boarders who took up all the space in front of the fire in the hostels where we stayed." Nora could continue but she knows talking about her past can only lead back to gloom. So instead she changes the subject by saying something she's been wanting to say all night. Takes a deep breath, then, "You look absolutely beautiful in that dress."

The whole night, no one, not the so-called 'friends' who'd given her a ride, not the guys who kept trying to dance with her at the club, no one had complimented her dress. "Thank you, Nora. You look stunning too."

The heretic blushes. Bonnie's glad because she didn't want to sound like she was just echoing the compliment—she really means it. "I'm overstaying my welcome, aren't I?" Nora suddenly asks, starting to get up out of the chair.

"What? No!" Bonnie answers. "It's like"—she checks her phone—"not even midnight! And what are you planning to do exactly, walk home? I can't let you do that by yourself!"

"You forget I'm a vampire, Bonnie. I can take care of myself. Besides, I can probably get Beau to pick me up."

"Yeah, except the only _reason_ you're leaving is because of some perceived violation of my hospitality," Bonnie says as she lightly grabs Nora's arm before she can leave the chair. "I am inviting you to stay."

"What do you mean?" Nora's bright green eyes are streaked with red and glazed over, but something briefly sparks in them nonetheless. Hope? Fear? Bonnie can't tell.

"You can spend the night here. Caroline almost never sleeps here nowadays. I can take her bed and you can have mine."

"You don't have to—"

"I know I don't. But I am. How are you supposed to call yourself a college student if you've never passed out at a friend's house after a long night?"

Nora smiles cautiously. "I suppose you're right. You're sure Caroline wouldn't mind."

 _No. I'm not the slightest bit sure._ But Caroline's been unpredictable lately. The pregnancy is changing her. "I'll text her and ask, but I'm sure she won't." She taps out a quick text (strategically leaving out the actual identity of the person spending the night) before walking over to her dresser and pulling out a few things. "Here. Some pajama stuff that will probably fit you. You can change in the bathroom. Or I can, if you'd rather stay out here."

"No, that's fine," Nora says gratefully as she takes the pile of soft cotton and fleece. "You're too nice to me, you know that?"

"Don't make me regret it," Bonnie singsongs with a smile as Nora closes the bathroom door. Once she's alone she fully expects to be assaulted with regret and guilt about what's happening, but she doesn't. She feels good. Warm. Safe. She only gets cozier once she's exchanged the dress for her favorite pair of sleep pants and a soft silk nightshirt. Caroline texts back: _oh, a FRIEND, hmmm? be safe casanova xoxo_. Bonnie chuckles.

Nora's small voice from the bathroom: "Are you decent?"

"Debatable," Bonnie jokes, "but at least I have clothes on!"

Nora's laughing again as she opens the door, but Bonnie's smile drops a bit at the sight as her eyes take in the sight before her. Nora has scrubbed the makeup from her face, brushed her hair out, and looks _unfairly_ cute in the striped flannel pants and oversized Beach House t-shirt she's borrowing.

Bonnie finally brings her gaze back up to meet Nora's, whose expression appears slightly amused— _did she just watch me eye-fuck her? How long was I ogling?_

"I just spent a concerning amount of time staring at my own reflection in the mirror in there. Is that... normal?"

Bonnie snaps out of her daze a bit to laugh. "Yes, that's very normal. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Really good."

They smile at each other. Bonnie breaks the silence: "I, uh, are you done in there? I need to brush my teeth and stuff."

"Yes, all yours. Thank you again for letting me stay. I've never had a sleepover before," Nora confesses.

Bonnie's heart melts. She pulls the brunette into a tight hug. "Of course," she whispers in response. They've never hugged before. They've never been this close before. Bonnie feels her heartbeat speeding up and quickly pulls away. "I'll be just a second."

Door closes. Cold water splashes face. Bonnie shakes her head a few times and then looks at herself in the mirror. _Get it together, Bennett._ Oh, if Grams could see her now. She wipes her makeup off a little too vigorously, hoping the painful friction will help snap her out of whatever spell she's under. It doesn't work. She sighs, brushes her teeth, washes her face, opens the door.

Nora sits on the end of Bonnie's bed, cross legged. Crying. Hard. It's completely silent, but the tears streak down her face with an angry velocity.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Nora looks angry at herself for letting Bonnie see her. "Nothing, it's nothing."

"Don't you think we're past the point where we just shrug each other off?"

Nora sniffs. "I... I miss Lily."

 _Shit._ "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, we were all so awful to you…"

"But you're still people. And I can still be sorry. You lost your mother." Bonnie softly places her hand on Nora's shoulder. "It's okay to grieve."

The heretic wipes her face clean and sniffs a few more times. "I'll be okay. Thank you." She looks at the clock, the pitch-black sky outside. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired." Bonnie gets up and pads over to Caroline's bed. "Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow before we hand out the gifts?"

"I do not. As it happens, Toys for Tots and Bonnie Bennett are pretty much my only two commitments at the moment."

 _Commitments?_ "Alright, then we'll just figure out a plan in the morning." Bonnie lies down, then snaps and the lights go out. She's gotten good at that spell, at least. She switches off the music. "Good night, Nora."

"Good night, Bonnie."

There's about ten minutes of silence. They just listen to each other breathe. It's clear neither one is asleep. Then: "Bonnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you... would you be okay with... joining me?"

Bonnie doesn't hesitate despite her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. "Of course." She tentatively crosses the space between the beds, extends her arms to feel for direction in the dark, her hands quickly finding the soft skin of Nora's arms. "Is everything okay?" she asks, concerned.

"Yes. I just. I just think I need to be held."

"That can be arranged." Bonnie's heart has inexplicably returned to its normal state. As her arms and legs tangle with Nora's and they move their bodies close together, she's never felt calmer. They lie still for a few moments. Bonnie whispers, "better?" but Nora doesn't respond—she's already asleep. And a few minutes later, Bonnie drifts off too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> **Soundtrack:**  
>  The Velvet Underground - "Candy Says" from _The Velvet Underground_  
>  Kooba Tercu - "California" from _Kharrub_  
>  The Antlers - "Kettering" from _Hospice_  
>   
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> 

**July 28, 2015 | morning**

_“Are you sure about this?”_

_“Of fucking course not! Of all our stupid plans this one is_ the _most half-assed, nonsensical, risky, potentially fa—”_

_“I don’t mean the plan. I mean you helping me. Being here.”_

_“Where else would I be?”_

_“Home. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s not storming an armed-to-the-teeth compound who almost certainly knows we’re coming.”_

_“What, and leave you to do said storming by yourself? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?”_

_“The kind you always are.”_

_“Ouch. Hurtful, but true. Which is why I’m here. This is me_ proving _to you how much I care.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Plus I need the stone back. Let’s just say I owe Enzo one.”_

_“Oh, of course. Now I see. There’s something in it for you. There always is. To you this isn’t even about me, or her. You just want to save the guy you turned your back on seventy years ago to get the guilt off your conscience.”_

_“Bon, I—”_

_“Forget it. If you’re coming, I won’t stop you, and if not, forget it. But I am sick and tired of listening to your lazy platitudes. I am worth it, Damon. She made me realize that. But to you I’m worth nothing at all. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go rescue the only person in the whole fucking world that cares about my happiness. Or die trying.”_

* * *

**December 7, 2013**

When Bonnie wakes in the morning Nora is gone. Her body is usually good at regulating its own temperature while she’s asleep but right now she feels cold, deprived, missing something. She groans and rolls over to look at the clock on the nightstand. _7:38 a.m._ glows on the slightly dusty red LED display. Bonnie groans louder and folds her pillow over her head and ears and lies face down with her face pressed into the mattress and screams into it. She’s not exactly hungover, just out of whack, but there’s a gnawing in her gut that’s more difficult to define. Or maybe not, as she sees a small piece of white paper on her desk near the front door. Bonnie rolls out of bed, almost losing her balance and sprawling onto the floorboards before she catches herself on the bedframe, ambles over to the desk, yawning the entire way. She has to rub her eyes a few times before she can read the small, neat, terse handwriting scrawled across the middle of the note. _See you later for T F T. –N_

Bonnie sighs. Why is she disappointed? Nora was just spending the night after a long night. Bonnie had even said it herself. Perhaps she shouldn't have thought so much about how nice it would be to wake up with Nora in her arms, eyelids slowly opening to the dusty morning sun and kissing the top of her head, gently taking her chin with her hand and bringing their faces—

The door swings open and Caroline comes striding in with her usual superhuman force, toting three bags and a bluetooth earpiece. Upon seeing Bonnie she stops in her tracks. “Oh! You’re... up!”

“Were you expecting me not to be?”  
“I mean…” Caroline looks like she’s been caught doing something she’s not supposed to do.

Bonnie puts two and two together. She pushes aside her confusing thoughts about the previous night and dons her best wry smile and accusatory stance. Probably better to not tell Caroline about it just yet. She’ll keep up the hot one-night stand act for now. “Were you _trying_ to walk in on me?”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t be... I mean it’s not even eight yet, I just... well…”

Bonnie raises her eyebrows even higher than they already are.

“Alright fine you’re right Bonnie I’m a total perv that totally wanted to see what or who my best friend is up to because I want you to be happy and find someone Bonnie or maybe a lot of someones because that’s totally fine but I’m your friend you know and I also feel so protective and just want to make sure—”

“I know, Care.” Bonnie’s trying not to laugh. “But I can take care of myself. And you can do your patented Caroline friend check-ins without, you know, attempting to barge in on me. If you didn’t want me to stay here you could have just told me that last night.” She knows that’s not it but still feels kind of bad for not telling the full truth about who her guest actually was.

“No not at all, this is your room too and... I’m sorry, Bonnie. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bonnie chuckles and gives her flustered friend a hug. She’s gotten used to feeling a bit grungy next to Caroline, who is usually already in a meticulously constructed outfit before most of her friends have changed out of their pajamas. “And you don’t even have to worry, I didn’t end up having anyone over.”

Now it’s Caroline’s turn to raise her eyebrows inquisitively. “Is that so?” She eyes the pair of whisky tumblers on the table, the pile of neatly folded clothes on Bonnie’s dresser, the— “Wait, did someone sleep in _my_ bed? Bonnie, what is going on? You clearly had someone over, and not the type of someone I assumed it would be.”

Bonnie’s stomach sinks, but she really hates lying to Caroline anyway, and the twin-bearing blonde vampire has a way of finding things out on her own anyway. “Alright, but do you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

Caroline furrows her brow. Her expression is curious and a bit scared. “Uh... I guess? Bonnie, just tell me, what’s going on?”

“I had Nora over.”

“Oh.” Caroline finally sets her bags down on the floor and sits down on the end of Bonnie’s bed. Bonnie is still leaning against her desk. “Well.”

“We didn’t... she just spent the night because we got pretty—”

“She spent the _night_?” Caroline doesn’t look angry, just incredulous.

Bonnie reminds her anyway. “You promised you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I’m not! I just... hm. Give me some context here please, I’m a bit confused.”

“I went to the Christmas dance thing at Bells last night with some people from the building. I saw Beau and Nora there and initially thought they were up to something, but we talked and they seem genuinely dedicated to starting over. I mean, it was like Beau was a whole other person without Julian there, he was dancing and talking to a bartender, and Nora... I don’t know. We got drunk and connected and the people I got a ride with ditched me and it just sort of happened. We came back here and hung out for a bit and then went to bed.”

Caroline blinks her eyes at the staggering amount of information to unpack here, but only asks a single question at first. “In separate beds?”

Bonnie looks at the floor and shuffles her feet. “At first, I was in yours and she was in mine, but then…”

“Bonnie.”

“I know! I know, and I don’t know. I literally have no idea what’s happening. And I’m sorry that I brought her here without asking you, and—”  
“Stop.” Caroline is lightly smiling. “I was going to say, ‘Bonnie, that’s great’.”

“What?”

“Well, first of all, Nora stopped by yesterday around lunchtime with herbs and tonics she found out about from some old Gemini grimoire that are supposed to help the twins. She said siphoner pregnancies are complicated so we should do everything we can to ensure their safety. And then she launched into this huge apology speech. You’ve probably heard a lot of what she said, but I don’t know if she’s told you about the memorial.”

“The memorial?”

“They want to put it in town square. For all the people they killed when they attacked Matt’s ceremony.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that was my reaction too. I thought it was a joke. I asked her how exactly she was going to get the money for it and she said something about selling stuff to museums... I asked what Matt thought about it and she said she planned to talk to him that afternoon... Bonnie, she recited all of the victims’ names to me. I really think she’s serious about it.”

“She didn’t say anything about this to me.”

“Well maybe it has nothing to do with you. I never really met Mary Louise but I always knew exactly what kind of dynamic that relationship had. For her to be free of both her toxic, controlling girlfriend and her psycho vampire stepdad in one fell swoop? Most people in those kinds of situations aren’t so lucky. Maybe she really is just a good person at heart.”

Bonnie is so taken aback she can barely find words. “What’s with the 180?” she manages.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About vampires, about how we’re people but we’re also not. No one except a vampire can understand the urges, the hunger, the constant struggle against something deep and primal within us. I’m lucky enough to be relatively high-functioning, but even I have a list of lives I’ve ended that is way longer than even a ‘low-functioning’ human’s would be.” Caroline sighs. “We’re not human. Humans give in to gambling, sex, drugs, you name it. We give in to murder, torture, evil. It’s not the same, and it never will be, shouldn’t be. But is a vampire any more to blame for the act of ‘giving in’ itself than a human? If I could do anything, _anything_ , to go back to those moments of weakness and keep myself strong. Every night I say their names. Stefan writes his on a wall. Nora wants to build a memorial. It’s guilt. Not for who we are but for what it’s made us do. What it _makes_ us do. Isn’t that what makes someone good? Guilt, and the subsequent desire to change so that you won’t cause any more pain? We’re all guilty. And we can never forget what we’ve done. But it doesn’t have to define us. It can’t.”

Caroline stops, takes a deep breath, then looks at Bonnie, who has sunk down to sit on the floor in rapt attention. 

“I uh, don’t think Advanced Ethics starts until 11 Care, and that’s all the way over in Halbert.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I pour my heart out to you and—”  
“I’m kidding, Care. Thank you. You know I believe the same thing. I couldn’t have worded it so beautifully though.”

“Aw, thanks Bonnie.” They hug tightly.

“Now if only I could convince Matt,” Caroline says wistfully.

“He won’t be angry forever,” Bonnie reassures her, although she’s not certain. They’ve all suffered great losses, but Matt, the only human and without any family left, has the frailest support system of them all. Anger may be all he is capable of, at least for the time being.

“I mean, I would be too, if I were him. We forgive and forget so many things that we neglect the fact that others might not be ready to do the same.”

“Well this has been quite the chat for”—Bonnie checks her phone—“quarter past eight. AM.”

“The witching hour,” Caroline says with a wink.

“What are you up to today? What’s with all the bags?”

“Baby stuff, what else?” She pats her round belly. “And don’t tell me I’m doing too much. There’s no historical precedent for a vampire carrying magically-transferred siphoner twins. So I say be ready for any problem that may arise.” She’s switched from pensive, introspective Caroline to sprightly, all-business-but-kind-of-pretending-not-to-be Caroline (her default setting).

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Bonnie isn’t the type to dive head first into a rosebush.

“And as for what I’m doing today, I think I’m pretty free actually! You’re still handing out the Toys for Tots gifts later, right?”

“Yes, Caroline. You underestimate me.” This makes Bonnie remember something. Before they went to bed last night, she had asked Nora about the next morning as if they’d spoken about it before, but now she can’t recall any time she’d actually brought it up. Either Nora had found out about it on her own, or... 

Wait.

“Did you or did you not happen to mention that to Nora when she dropped by yesterday?”

Caroline smirks. “It might have come up.”

“May I ask why you’re trying to set me up with someone whom you not only despised until less than 24 hours ago, but also for whom I have never actually expressed any romantic interest?”

“Oh, come on Bonnie. You’re attracted to her. I saw it when you talked to her and I see it when you talk _about_ her. And it’s okay! I of all people can’t be judgy about finding certain... undesirable people very desirable.”

“Fair point. But I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I wasn’t even sure I was over Jeremy until last night.”

Caroline arches an eyebrow.

“He came up in conversation, alright? Nothing happened, really. We just talked.”

“Like I said, clear as day. Your defensiveness speaks volumes.”

“Ugh.” Bonnie’s morning brain can handle murky vampire ethics and friend comfort. Deep introspection, not so much.

“Hey, we haven’t really hung out in a while, right? How about you go get ready and we can get some coffee before you go to the hospital and prepare you for your…” she puts a hand to the side of her mouth and whispers conspiratorially, “date.”

“Considering she just got out of a century-long relationship, I’m not sure Nora’s really in the mood for dating right now.” Bonnie both wills her words to be true and is hurt by them at the same time. “But coffee sounds nice. And what do you mean ‘go get ready’? I’m not good enough for you like this?” She gestures to her sleep-wrinkled pajama hodgepodge.

“Good enough for me, sure, but for a posh heretic with impeccable taste? I doubt it!” She sings the last three words as she prances to the bathroom, narrowly dodging the slipper Bonnie chucks at her head.

* * *

Nora is standing outside the Children’s entrance to Whitmore General when Caroline drops Bonnie off. Her assembly of buttoned-up black coat, purple dress, and knee-high leather high-heeled boots looks impeccable as always save for a few flecks of chalky snow-slush residue across her shins. Bonnie wasn’t sure what mood she’d be in, or if she’d even show up after what happened the night before, but she definitely did not expect this: Nora looks hollow. Dead. She stares straight ahead as if there is nothing left in the world that she could possibly want to look at.

“Well she looks chipper!” Caroline jokes, nervously.

Bonnie sighs. “What the hell did you get me into, Care?”  
“Hey, bad mood or not, she came. I didn’t force her to. Which means she must want to see you in some capacity, right?”

“I guess so.” _Or maybe she just doesn’t have anything else left_ . _Or any_ one. Bonnie gets out of the car and retrieves the large Santa sack of last-minute gift donations from the trunk—the others had already been brought to the hospital—before meeting Caroline at her window. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem, you’re the one helping _me_ out. And if you’re not up for it I can still…”

“Care, it’s fine. I’m not going to make you traipse around a giant building while you’re who-knows-how-many-months pregnant.”

“Thanks Bonnie. I’ll see you later. And make sure those shithead freshman volunteers are actually helping. There are way too many gifts to hand out on your own.”

She pulls away, leaving Bonnie to walk up to the entrance with the bag of gifts, and Nora finally sees her. “Hey,” Bonnie greets.

“Hello.” It’s almost a whisper.

“Are you okay? Did something happen this morning?”  
“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

The brusque words are like a cold knife in Bonnie’s chest. “Okay.” She means for it to come across as a bit defensive and taken aback, but when it comes out of her mouth it just sounds sad. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”  
But Nora has already strode through the automatic doors without another word. _Some “date,” Care._

* * *

A few hours later they’re mostly done. Bonnie let most of the freshman go home about thirty minutes ago—they weren’t doing much work anyway—and is finishing up distributing the final box of donations with Nora, who’s warmed up slightly since her harsh, frigid greeting, but still seems to be refusing to acknowledge that any of what happened last night actually occurred. Bonnie’s had to just sort of put her feelings somewhere else.

But it’s hard, because now they’re going room-to-room together and when she hears Nora talk to the kids as she gives them the gifts she sounds normal. Happy. It’s hard to hear when all she gets are terse responses and angsty silences; it makes Bonnie feel like she’s the problem. Like she did something wrong. And she can’t for the life of her figure out what.

Now, she watches Nora as she talks to a little girl of about six with leukemia. And can’t help but smile despite the turmoil and confusion that roils within her.

“Can I have one of the boy toys?” the girl, Samantha, asks with a pointed look, as if she expects a certain answer.

“Of course you can. You can be anything you want. Don’t let society tell you differently.” Nora smiles and Samantha looks surprised. “Now, what would you like?”

“May I please have the football? My daddy played football.”

“Certainly!” Nora roots around in the bag. “But I can’t seem to find a football in here…”

Samantha reaches her own small arms into the sack and pulls out an NFL-branded leather gridiron football packaged in grey cardboard. Nora looks at it like it’s a mythological creature she’s never seen before. Bonnie forgets herself for a minute and giggles. “All the time you’ve spent acclimating to a new century and somehow you managed to miss the country’s multi-billion-dollar pastime?”

“It appears so, and it appears I’ve also missed the addition of a rule to the world that the definitions of words can be changed arbitrarily.” Nora looks fondly at Samantha, oblivious to their conversation as she tears into the boxed toy, before meeting Bonnie’s eyes. For a brief second she’s back to normal, or whatever fragile state of normal she’d arrived at before this morning. And as they walk down the sunlit, slightly chemical-smelling hallway to the next room, Nora keeps talking. “Christmas was always my favorite holiday. It was much different than this when I was growing up.” She gestures to the wide assortment of toys in the bag she’s carrying. “I would’ve been happy with a hoop and a stick. But still, being surrounded by your loved ones…” she trails off. Bonnie is focused on her with rapt attention—Nora’s said more words in the past minute than she has all day—and immediately sees the source of her distraction: a platinum-blonde Barbie doll that had shifted to the top of the sack after she looked for the football.

And all of a sudden everything makes sense. Nora feels guilty. She just broke up with the person she’d been with for 133 years. She doesn’t feel like she’s allowed to move on. Bonnie feels completely clueless. Nora needs a friend right now. Not a replacement for Mary Louise. And Bonnie wouldn’t want to be that anyway. She pushes the pain down within her, out of sight, and asks, “Have you spoken to her recently?”  
“Who?” Nora looks like she genuinely doesn’t know to whom Bonnie is referring.

Bonnie gives her a knowing look. “Who else could I possibly be talking about?” She surreptitiously gestures toward the Barbie.

Nora sighs. “I haven’t. I can’t bring myself to. Every time I think about it I see her face in the moment she chose Julian over Valerie. In that instant it was like so many things locked into place in my head all at once. But I still can’t stop thinking about her. And it’s affecting my life, I mean I was so awful and crass to you all this morning—”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” Bonnie puts a comforting hand on Nora’s arm. “Even though you denied anything was going on I knew something was.” As much as it hurts, she continues with what she feels like she needs to say. “And I want you to know that we are _friends_ . There is _nothing_ you need to be feeling guilty about.”

Nora gives her a look that’s part grateful and part quizzical, as if she’s thankful for what Bonnie is saying yet believes the witch doesn’t fully realize the significance of it. “I know. And I couldn’t be more humbled by your willingness to forgive me.” They hug. “Thinking or talking about Mary Louise only makes me sad, mad, or both. From now on, no more. If she wants to find me and apologize for what she’s done, I won’t stop her. But from this point forward, she’s dead to me.”

“Am I?”

Both girls turn around. At the end of the hallway stands none other than Mary Louise, with impeccable timing as always. Nora says nothing, but Bonnie can tell she’s surprised and upset.

“Can we talk?” Mary Louise asks. She doesn’t appear at all remorseful; rather, she has the look of someone who’s waiting to be told they’re right. Bonnie isn’t optimistic about how this conversation will go.

“Go. I can finish these up,” Bonnie says to Nora, who’s barely moved a muscle. “I think you need some closure. Good luck.” She opens the double doors and steps through into the next wing before she says something less nice. Because Bonnie is scared. She’s scared that Nora is going to go running back to Mary Louise and lose all of the amazing progress she’s made. She’s scared that someone else is going to be chosen over her for the millionth time. She’s scared she is fated to be alone, forever.

The doors close behind her with a decisive crash.

* * *

**July 28, 2015 | night**

_“Nora.”_

_“Who’s there? What’s going on? Why can’t I see you?”_

_“Everything is going to be fine.”_

_“I don’t care who you are just please tell me she’s not dead please just—”_

_“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that. But what I can do is get you out of this horrid cell.”_

_“I don’t care. There’s no point anymore. You can leave me here for all I care.”_

_“I could. But I won’t. Someone who doesn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer has big plans for you.”_

_“What are you talking about? Who... wait, how did you open that?”_

_“I have my ways. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Nora. Have you heard me? Singing to you through the walls? Reaching out with my mind?”_

_“If you want me out you’ll have to drag me. I don’t have any reason to live anymore.”_

_“Oh, you’ll change your tune once I show you what’s in store for you after death.”_

_“What?”_

_“Where are my manners? I’m sorry, I’ve been out of the social loop for quite a long time. Over two centuries, in fact. My name’s Sybil.”_

_“Sybil.”_

_“Now that’s better. It wasn’t difficult to get into your mind now that your will has been broken by the death of the love of your life. But I wasn’t expecting it to be_ that _easy.”_

_“All I hear is your voice. I want to see you. When can I see you?”_

“As soon as you bring me enough to eat.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introspective reverie followed by some very unfortunate events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  **Soundtrack:**  
>  Kate Bush - "Misty" from _50 Words for Snow_  
>  Deerhunter - "Green Jacket" from _Microcastle_  
>  Portishead - "Threads" from _Third_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> 

**July 19, 2015 | evening**

_“So just to reiterate: I put the British one into the Stone. I hand the heretic over now. And then you let me go? With my sword?”_

_“That’s correct.”_

_“No strings attached? I just go back to hunting?”_

_“Ms. Cruz, we’ll even provide the Armory's numerous resources to make your job easier. We want the same thing as you and so many others: a vampire-free world. But we can hardly discuss the deal when you seem to be missing an important bargaining chip.”_

_“You really think I would trust you enough to bring my only asset in with me? Forgive me for finding it hard to believe the slimy, manipulative antique-collector-turned-supernatural-prison-warden who’s never kept up her end of a deal in her life.”_

_“You purport to know so much about me. To always be one step ahead of your enemies. But I’ve been on this Earth for only a fraction of the time you’ve been alive and I’ve still managed to outsmart you.”_

_“What are you—”_

_"So arrogant. Powerful enough to kill vampires ten times your age. Yet at the end of the day, you are just one woman. Felled by tranquilizer darts just as I, the lowly human, would be. Alright everyone, she’s down, you know what to do. She’ll have stashed the heretic somewhere close. Find her before whatever Rayna used to put her down wears off.”_   
  


* * *

**December 7, 2013 | afternoon**

> Dear Elena,
> 
> There are times when I miss you so much that I can’t bring myself to write you a letter, and then there are times when I’m doing so well that all I want to do is tell my best friend about it. This is neither—my heart aches for you, it HURTS, but there are certain things that I feel like I can’t tell anyone other than you. You were always so good about not judging me, even in the phases of my life when I was at my judgiest (remember how I acted around Stefan at first? Oh how things change…). Anyways, the thing is, I like someone. A lot. It’s new and it’s scary and I do NOT know what to do about it. God, this sounds like a diary entry I would’ve written about that kid Dean back in elementary school that all three of us had a crush on, but it’s true. What’s strange is that it’s a girl. I always wondered what it would be like to be into girls, thought about it a lot, but it was just never the same as with guys. And then I met her. I really wish you weren’t asleep so I could ask you what the HELL is with these 100+ year-old vampires that turn us into mush. I mean, I used to be the moral compass of our little group. And now I’m pining over a mass-murderer. Caroline and I have been talking a lot about vampirism and what it means, ethically and so on, but I still get these occasional flashes of doubt, like “what the hell are you doing justifying all this they KILL people for God’s sake.” I don’t know if that will ever go away, and I suppose it’s a good thing, not to forget how viscerally terrible so much of the stuff we have gone through (and are currently going through) is. But I don’t think about any of it when I’m with her. Three days ago I hated her guts and now I can’t stop thinking about her. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before and Elena I need you to be here so you can put your hands on my shoulders and tell me to breathe and calm down and then give me the most logical, comforting friend solution ever like you always do. (Looking at that written down it looks like sarcasm but it’s not I promise.) So I guess instead of writing this whole letter I could have just written two sentences. One, “I’m a hopeless romantic who is going to get her heart shattered yet again”; and two, “Elena I miss you so much I can’t breathe.” Wherever you are, in your dreams or whatever your brain is doing while you sleep, I hope you’re happy. I hope it’s better in there than it is out here. And that we’ll have it all fixed for you when you wake up.
> 
> Love always,  
> Bonnie

She sets her pen down with a satisfyingly finality. It feels good to actually write a letter completely, from start to finish, without interruption. After she finished handing out the gifts, Bonnie headed to Scull to try and get some weekend preparation in for her Occult in the Mediterranean and Contemporary Black American Literature finals next week, but she ended up just sitting and zoning in and out on one of the way-too-comfortable leather armchairs, mindlessly refilling her mug of coffee and listening to Kate Bush through her earbuds. She keeps telling herself she isn’t still upset from this morning, but deep down she can’t stop catastrophizing about Nora and Mary Louise; imagining not them getting back together, but rather the latter re-corrupting the former. Bonnie is aware that, romantically at least, she can’t compete with one hundred and thirty years of love and intimacy. But she cares enough about Nora already to hope for her redemption. And spending any amount of time with Mary Louise is not how one redeems oneself.

Bonnie is usually somewhat annoyed—inconvenienced, at least—when she inevitably sees someone she knows while she’s studying, reading, or just fucking around on her laptop at Scull (a situation in which that pesky social contract recommends an awkward interaction consisting of at least two full stumbling, half-assed exchanges), but at the moment she’s half pleading for even the most distant acquaintance to stop by so she actually has an excuse not to be reviewing Greek Traveler factions from the Hellenistic period, or reading the last third of Fran Ross’s _Oreo,_ or thinking about Nora. _Damn it_. She hoped that writing the letter to Elena would help with the last part, but thoughts of both the brunette heretic and the blonde devil-on-her-shoulder still saturate her already overloaded mind.

Now she’s looking at an older guy, probably late 30s—on Saturdays the usual student-heavy crowd was often overwhelmed by people who simply lived in the town, a trend that wasn’t exactly promising for her valid-distraction contingency plan—at a table across the room who’s bent over a large stack of papers. None of the sheets are stapled together and there’s a large envelope next to them so Bonnie deduces that it’s some sort of manuscript. He has several different-colored pens and post-it notes that he occasionally uses to mark things on the pages. What he’s doing is clearly work, but his face shows no disdain or even boredom.

Bonnie’s never really thought about what her life is going to look like after (or—she shudders— _if_ ) she finishes school. She used to think about it a lot, especially the summer before junior year when her dad started asking her about applications and her naïve young brain whirled with the simultaneously anxious and hopeful fantasies of the future, but ever since she discovered the supernatural everything else has seemed so... trivial. And now the two people in the world she wanted to make proud with what she accomplished, her Grams and her dad, are both gone, both taken from her by forces beyond her control. _Supernatural_ forces. How is she supposed to live a “normal” life after this? Grow up to be the “kooky lady who teaches occult studies at the university” just like Grams, doing spells on the side to stay sane? Work for some giant corporation that employs thousands of people, none of whom have any idea of the terrifying danger that passes unseen right under their noses? How could she relate to anyone when so much about her life relies on the knowledge of a secret, one terrible secret whose tremendous weight everyone seems to have forgotten, that will hang over every new friendship or other relationship like a bulbous storm cloud biding its time in order to ruin everything at the worst possible moment. Maybe she could find some hidden witch club in New York, or meet some extremely friendly vampires in Seattle. But even in her head these possibilities seem impossibly far-fetched, and she knows she’ll probably never find any more of a family than the one she has made here. A family that is now drifting apart before her very eyes.

She misses Jeremy. Not really strong-sexy-hunter-turns-her-legs-to-jelly Jeremy but her friend Jeremy, the one who kept the fact that she was dead a secret (even though she now knows, and probably even knew then, that was a _horrible_ thing to ask him to do) and stopped her from wasting away on the Other Side, who made her feel like she was truly home when she was getting used to being the Anchor, who taught her how to roll the perfect joint and held her as she cried about her dad and laughed at stupid reality TV with her. Bonnie would give anything for a friend like that right now. 

* * *

The meager pre-winter sun has started to set, and Bonnie knows she’ll get even less done once the bar turns on their cozy amber lights to offset the darkness outside. She shoves her books and notes into her bag, slips her coat on, and begins on the short walk back to her dorm, leaning her head forward to shield her face from the sharp icy air. She’s trying to remember if she has anything to eat for dinner; she ate the leftover Indian takeout for lunch and some soup Stefan had made the evening before that... damn. Might have to go out again. After escaping the prison world and vowing to never eat a single pancake, whipped cream fangs or not, ever again, she’s gradually gone fully vegan. Enough death and destruction already, she thought. Some things are cheaper now, some are more expensive, everything ends up pretty much the same anyway. Maybe she’ll swing by the little Asian market down the street and pick up some noodles and veggies or something, she thinks as she half-jogs up the creaky stairs to her floor and flicks her wrist to unlock the door to the room, except it’s already unlocked, maybe Caroline _didn’t_ find some random weekend baby project to keep herself occupied like she assumed, maybe she’s—

But opening the door reveals Nora, sitting on the bed crying just as she had been last night, although this time she had not yet changed out of her perfect outfit. She’d courteously removed her mud-and-snow-covered boots just inside the door and Bonnie thinks her pale pink socks are the cutest things ever. The witch snaps out of it. Something happened with Mary Louise. Something bad.

“I guess it didn’t go well,” Bonnie says. Almost certainly an understatement.

“She called me a charity case,” Nora laments with a sniffle. “And the only reason she was there was to hear _me_ apologize to _her_. I mean, the nerve. I—”

“Why don’t I get you a tissue?”

“Oh, it’s all right. I’ve used one of your hideous tops.”

“...Which is now _your_ hideous top.” In any other situation Bonnie might have been irritated but right now she can’t muster a care at all. She didn’t wear it much anyway, to be honest; it wasn’t quite hideous, just bland. Nora is clearly not a fan of “bland,” however. Bonnie chuckles, then decides to be bold. Her face sets into seriousness. “Can I ask you what... might sound like a mean question?” She plops down next to Nora on the end of her bed.

“Please, fire away,” Nora says, sniffing again, “it’s not like I’m in a fragile state or anything.” The sarcasm is palpable but not excessive. She’s learning.

Bonnie’s done joking though. “What do you see in her?” she questions firmly, and is immediately met with a look of surprise. Okay, that was a bit harsh. Maybe one joke. “Aside from the fact that she looks like a blonde Angelina Jolie.”

Nora shows no sign of recognition; she probably has no idea who Angelina Jolie is. But she answers the initial query: “She’s loving, protective, kind.”

Bonnie’s heard that one before. “But just to _you_ ,” she says, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Nora makes a _touché_ sound and looks away for a second. “That’s fair,” she concedes. “She does always think of me first.” It’s clear she’s trying to stop crying, but the tears keep sneaking down her cheeks in clear trails that reflect the orange light of the lamps. “Maybe I’m spoiled. Or old-fashioned, but... it’s nice having that one person who doesn’t _need_ anything from you. Who just loves you, and thinks you’re the most amazing, beautiful girl in the whole world, you know?” She looks to Bonnie for some sign of agreement upon the “you know,” but receives none. “Maybe. Maybe you don’t.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me I’m pretty,” Bonnie responds, jokingly but defiantly.

Nora laughs. “Nobody needs it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good to hear it.”

They just sit there looking at each other for what could be three seconds or three hours before Nora suddenly gets up from the bed as if she had been prodded with one of the fireplace pokers. “Thank you, for today, and yesterday, and... well, you know,” she says, nervously moving her hands around, not knowing where to put them. “You’re a... very kind person, and…”—she hesitates a bit, before saying the next word a bit more slowly and carefully, as if she liked the way it felt to pronounce it—“...beautiful. Even if you can somehow go from that goddess attire you were wearing last night to this monstrosity,” she says as she holds up the tear-soiled top.

All Bonnie can muster is a short “hmmm” because her heart is going haywire. The temperature in the room soared at least three degrees when Nora called her beautiful. She desperately hopes she’s more composed on the outside than she feels on the inside.

Nora starts to walk toward the door, but right away her cell phone beeps. After she reads whatever message came she turns to face Bonnie again, except this time her face is a mask of fury and betrayal. “I guess I was wrong.”

“What?” Bonnie’s confused.

“You and your friends are not kind at all,” Nora says tersely.

“Nora, wait. Whatever you’re talking about, I have no idea. I’ve been studying all day and haven’t heard from anyone, I swear.”

Nora shakes her head back and forth like an overwhelmed child. “I don’t believe you.” Bonnie’s gotten up from the bed and is stepping away from Nora, who keeps moving closer. _She wouldn’t hurt me after all this, would she?_

“Please. Think about it. If I hated you enough to be a part of some scheme against you, why would I let myself get roped into investing this much time into it? I’m the witch, I’m always helping, I’m not gonna spend a total of what, six to seven hours plus a whole night of sleep being some undercover obstructer!” Bonnie’s reached the back wall, which faces the door. Nora’s stopped walking toward her but she still doesn’t look convinced. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

“You _know_ what happened!” Nora yells tearfully. The lamps rattle and a fire ignites in the previously flame-free hearth.

“Calm down. I’m telling you I don’t. You can either believe me and we can figure this out or you can hurt the person who took the leap of faith of forgiving you.” Bonnie’s running through attack spells in her head as a backup plan. Anti-magic field first, then burst her brain, then a binding spell around the wrists and ankles. She’s practiced it a million times.

Nora drops her bared hands. “They’ve taken Mary Louise,” she says, her bottom lip trembling.

Bonnie’s eyelids slowly close in realization. Those _idiots_. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Julian didn’t say.”

“ _Julian_ _?_ You’re trusting him?”

“I have to when it comes to her. He wouldn’t lie to me about this. And I... I can’t…”

“I know, I know.” Bonnie’s trying to calm down. She’s a bit terrified and just needs Nora to leave at this point. “Go. I will call everyone and try to figure out what the hell is going on.” Nora is gone in a flash. Bonnie knows full well it’s Stefan and Valerie’s crackpot plan to draw Julian back into town. _Someone is going to_ die _because of this._ If it’s Mary Louise, Nora may never forgive her. She can't think about what would happen if it's anyone else.

Bonnie waits for a minute until Nora is definitely out of vamp-hearing range and then quickly dials Stefan’s number. He doesn’t pick up the first two times but answers on the third. His infuriatingly unconcerned “Hello” is unceremoniously cut off by Bonnie’s “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Well, it’s nice to hear your voice too.”

“Julian just texted Nora and told her about Mary Louise, so now you have _two_ vicious, angry vampires headed your way. Thought you should know.”

“We expected as much. It’s all part of the plan.”

Bonnie is fuming. “You don’t think you could have clued me in, Stefan? Nora came close to _killing_ me because she thought I was in on it. Was that ‘part of the plan’?”

“Well if I _had_ clued you in, wouldn’t you be in on it?”

“Fuck you.” Fuming has become seething. “I don’t know what’s happened to you and I don’t care. But I assure you, if anyone I love dies tonight because of your stupid plot, I _will_ kill you. And if it’s you I won’t give a shit.”

“Bonnie—”

She hangs up, not knowing.

Not knowing that Nora, still driving to Mystic Falls, will arrive about half an hour too late to stop anything from happening—Julian hadn’t wanted her to be involved. 

Not knowing that about ten minutes from now, while she lies on her bed with her knees up and her stomach twisted up in anxious knots, Julian will kill both Stefan and Damon with the Phoenix Sword, Bonnie’s final words (among other things) ringing over and over in both of their heads as they descend into unimaginable, spiraling, merciless hell.

Not knowing that once freed from her restraints, in an act of both self-destruction and misplaced hatred, Mary Louise will rip the Sword from Damon’s heart and plunge it into Valerie’s before fleeing with her rescuer.

Not knowing that she has a very long and exhausting winter break ahead of her.

* * *

**July 19, 2015 | night**

_“I suppose this is karma. For all the years of misery and suffering you have caused my family and so many others. You took Beau’s voice from him, made him live in fear of your return. Remember? Because he does. I do."_

_“...”_

_“I wonder, did you really think that they would just let you go once you gave me over? Or is it that somewhere in the back of that scrambled vampire-loathing brain of yours, you_ wanted _to be caught?”_ _  
__“Why would I want to be in here? Now I’m forced to deal with all my horrible psychic visions and can’t even do anything about them. I feel naked without my sword. I would never intentionally part with it.”_

_“Then why the bloody hell did you?”_

_“I... I don’t know. I can’t explain but it just…”_

_“...seemed like the right thing to do?”_

_“Yeah, that’s it. How’d you know?”_

_“There’s something about this place. Something... magnetic. I’ve always felt it but just sort of brushed it off.”_

_“Think harder. What exactly is it? You know, deep down. Can’t you hear her voice?_ My _voice?"_

_"Wait. How are you in here? Why are they letting us talk?”_

_“They aren’t. And I’m not really Rayna Cruz. Someone else, someone you’re not ready for yet. You could call me the basement tenant, I suppose. You won’t remember any of this, but tonight I begin rewiring your brain. You’ll be mine soon enough.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes. Bonnie does some deep thinking in between buckling down. An old favorite makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  **Soundtrack:**  
>  HTRK - "I'm All Broke Up" from _Nostalgia_  
>  Faust - "Jennifer" from _Faust IV_  
>  Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 - "Guillotine" from _Strangers from the Universe_  
>   
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters):  
> <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> 

**< date unknown, closest approximation July 19, 2015>**

_“AAAaa—what? What the... ha! Oh my God! Thank God, thank—”_

_“Don’t thank God, thank me.”_

_“Who— oh shit you’re the dude aren’t you, the, mmmm it’s on the tip of my tongue I swear, like, no offense to your highness or anything—”_

_“Arcadius is the name my mother gave me. Cade is the name I gave myself.”_

_“Mama’s boy, eh? I guess that makes sense, you’d have to be one to cook up whatever fucked-up shit this is. I mean, where was I? Was I in Hell? I probably deserved it, but nonetheless, I’m curious…”_

_“Yes and no. You_ are _in Hell. My Hell, that is. To tell the truth, as powerful as my psychic powers are, I have absolutely no idea what happens to the souls I do not claim.”_

_“What do you I mean I am in… oh shit you’re sending me back, this is just like a, like a shakedown or some shit and then you’re gonna send me back to the pain and the fire and the—”_

_“The merciless, powerful, evil Malachai Parker, reduced to a pathetic, begging mess in the face of a little existential despair.”_

_“An eternity of torture is more than just a little despair, man! And hey, whoa there, I never claimed to be powerful. Merciless and evil, sure. Hey, I’m kinda… devilish, right, wouldn’t you say? How’s about we be pals? I’m sure we have a lot in common. Uh, Kale, was it?”_

_“Five times I’ve brought you here only to wipe your memories after our conversation, and each time you have done the exact same thing: make a few jokes, have a moment of panic, and then scramble together some flimsy plan for self-preservation. And not once, not a single time, have you managed to remember my name seconds after I’ve introduced myself. You’d think a few remnants would cling to the subconscious from even my deepest erasures but no, you are a true sociopath, Mr. Parker. And that is both a weakness and a strength.”_

_“I’m actually not really a sociopath anymore. After I merged with my brother my brain got all mushy and emotional. And quit it with the psychoanalysis, alright? The unending spiritual agony was bad enough. Oh shit. Freud’s gotta be here. He’s totally in Hell, right? Or can you not tell me because of, you know, the doctor-patient confidentiality? Haha, get it?”_

_“The other invariability between our several interactions is that during the entirety of each you have been_ insufferably _annoying.”_

_“You’re the one who dragged me into Hell, Kate. Now you have to deal with me.”_

_“Well, that’s the thing. Hell has a reputation for being eternal, but that’s a bit of a… misnomer. Tell me, when you eat something, once you’ve swallowed, digested it, does it continue to exist in any fundamental sense? No, don’t answer that, you buffoon, it was rhetorical. The proverbial cake, which you cannot at once have and consume. Deceased souls are much the same. Left to their own devices after the moment of death, they’re reliably immortal, but as I come close to absorbing their energy completely, they become fragile, unstable—once I finish feeding they cease to be. I tend to prefer to give my... flock, if you will, a certain perception of eternity. Once faced with that, the unthinkable, the unimaginably horrible, once they are fully and truly broken, possessing their essence stops being of much benefit to me.”_

_“So what happens to them?”_

_“I’m not sure, really. I stop being able to sense their existence, so perhaps ‘they’ simply fade away. I do not concern myself with their hypothetical fates too deeply. But this all matters little, because if you refuse to do what I ask, you will never experience this fading away. I will leave your soul in Hell, untouched by my psychic absorption, to burn in darkness and fire until the end of time.”_

* * *

**December 18, 2013**

> Dear Freya,
> 
> Even though I haven’t even met you, let alone directly wronged you, I want to start this letter off with an apology. I should’ve written to thank you for the gift a while ago, but there have been some... developments around here.
> 
> I have a theory about who you are and why you contacted me. You knew the address of my dorm, which I know for a FACT I had not given to anyone or anywhere, and also sized the dress perfectly. If I’m wrong then this will be a funny story for you I guess, but in my majorly messed-up world the only explanation that makes any sense in my head is that you’re a witch. I know three things about New Orleans: one, Mardi Gras, parties and king cakes and whatnot; two, witches; and three, the Mikaelsons. I assume I am related to item two or three, or both, but it seems the matter isn’t too urgent if we’re just exchanging gifts. Anyway, whoever or whatever you are, you almost certainly know that I am a witch. And if you share this bundle of blessing and curse with me then you know that we are always caught up in some problem or big spell or something. That’s kind of an understatement for what I’m dealing with right now. If you think you can help in any way, I could really use it.
> 
> I am including a burner email at the bottom of this letter. I am not putting a return address or signature or any other identifiers on this or the envelope. We have enemies whose whereabouts are currently unknown and have no idea what, if anything, they’re planning to do. If you’re the right person you should know full well who I am. Email is safe to use, considering it was invented in the last twenty years or so.
> 
> Hope to talk to you soon.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> A fellow servant of nature

Bonnie is sure she’s being overly cautious as she carefully writes the newly created email address—a random string of letters and numbers—but a certain amount of paranoia is to be expected when there is a very angry 500-year-old vampire on the loose who may or may not finish what he started at any time. Valerie seems sure he won’t be coming back, but Bonnie knows better than to put her faith in anything but the worst possible outcome.

It’s been almost two full weeks since the night Valerie, Stefan, and Damon were stabbed with the Phoenix Sword. Bonnie, Nora, and Beau located Valerie’s soul and pulled her out almost right away—although she doesn’t appear to be significantly shaken by the ordeal, she refuses to talk about it—but the Salvatore brothers still lie prostrate and unresponsive even after hours of consistent attempts to revive them. Bonnie’s glad she doesn’t have to figure it out on her own, but the constant use of magic, coupled with all of the research and preparation she’s doing on the side, has left her utterly exhausted. She barely remembers taking her finals, although she managed to scrape by with A’s and B’s for the semester; school hasn’t exactly been a priority.

Bonnie’s head is filled with pervasive, parasitic memories she can’t shake. Telling Damon he was a terrible friend. Saying to Stefan over the phone, _if anyone I love dies tonight because of your stupid plot, I will kill you. And if it’s you I won’t give a shit_. What if they can’t figure it out? What if they never wake up? What if she never sees her friends again, and both broken halves are left with the regret and shame of careless words that can’t be taken back? 

If it weren’t for Caroline she’d have broken down by now. Her constant assurances that Bonnie shouldn’t blame herself don’t really work but they’re nice to hear. For a very pregnant, extremely hormonal vampire, Caroline is dealing with Stefan’s predicament remarkably well. Resurrecting Valerie was a bright spot of hope, but it’s been ten days since that stroke of luck and everyone can feel that brief light dimming. Nonetheless, the world’s first vamp mama somehow remains her enthusiastic, supportive, and hyper-productive self, splitting time between going to parenting classes with Ric and planning Christmas, which appears to still be on despite roughly a third of the RSVP pool being dead for the foreseeable future. Bonnie keeps expecting to see cracks in the façade, small signs that the blonde isn’t actually holding it all together perfectly, but it has yet to happen, and Bonnie knows better than to do anything resembling poking the bull. So part of her is steadily bracing for the possibility that Stefan not being back in time for the holidays will make it all come crashing down.

There’s another memory Bonnie can’t seem to scrub from her brain: Nora, with eyes of pure fire, about to attack her. It’s like all of the emotional energy that had previously fueled her feelings for the heretic has been transferred to that one image, and it’s the only thing she can see when they’re forced to spend hours at a time holding hands and chanting together, when she flips through the Olivia Bennett grimoire (which, being written in some sort of code, as well as created long before the Phoenix Stone, hasn’t been very helpful lately), when Nora looks at her with those big beautiful doe eyes whose dark watery depths hold a thousand apologies. Bonnie knows the brunette must be hurting too; Nora called her sobbing inconsolably upon finding the grisly scene at the Salvatore mansion, and then suffered an entirely new blow when Valerie awakened with the news that it had been Mary Louise who killed her. But empathy doesn’t change the fact that Bonnie is _scared_ of her—a reaction that visibly breaks Nora’s heart every single time.

* * *

Right now she’s at Scull and has just finished sealing the envelope with the letter to Freya. It’s a calm, quiet Wednesday evening in the spacious cafe/bar, which has become one of the many campus landmarks that Bonnie has come to appreciate even more while everyone’s away for break. To keep busy in between Stone sessions (she’s started calling them “soul searches”) she takes her research stuff to a different library or lecture hall or lounge for a change of scenery. Every campus building is accessible year-round with keycard access, which she has thanks to her mostly honorary status as Ric’s “junior TA,” and each has its own unique, heavy silence to it, a peaceful break from sensory input that her tormented mind cherishes. But even though she came here regularly while the semester in full swing, Scull is still Bonnie’s favorite place to go while Whitmore is in ghost-town mode; there’s something about sparsely populated bars or coffee shops that’s always been magnetic to her, plus the owners go all out with the decorations and at night when there’s only the light of the soft yellow lamps and the Christmas glow she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Of course, it’s better with a few fingers of bourbon in a glass on the bar, and that’s exactly what Bonnie picks up when she sets down the neatly addressed letter. She’s almost brought it to her lips to take the first sip when she hears a familiar voice behind her.

“Seriously? Starting without me? That’s cold.”

Bonnie smiles and swivels a 180 on the stool to see Ric walking up to her, his slightly tattered thick gray coat dusted with snow, the tips of his ears bright red from the wind. “Well, the thing is, when you don’t respond to the invite, the person is _probably_ going to think you aren’t coming.”

“I didn’t respond?”

“Oh come on, Ric. You’re what, 35? Not nearly old enough for the technology excuse.”

“No here, look, I typed it into the bar but didn’t hit send.” He smiles in victory and comes up to sit next to her. “And I’m 37. Thanks for reminding me, by the way. What are we drinking?”

“The fuck kind of question is that?” Bonnie asks with a furrowed brow, holding up her glass.

“That was a test, young padawan.” Ric waves at the bartender, who was leaning on the bar near the back on her phone—Bonnie, an older man in a chair near the door, and a young couple had been the only customers in the whole place for the past hour—and got a drink of his own. “And you passed. Did I actually catch you in time or is that your second?”

“Oh this is my fourth, buckaroo. Better catch up!” she says playfully.

“Ha. Even I don’t have that much of a tolerance. Well,”—he raises his whiskey tumbler— “here’s to, uh, taking a break.”

They both drink. Bonnie closes her eyes for a second as the bourbon runs like sweet fire down her throat and spreads warmth through her body. “Tell me about it. I needed this.”

“So, I take it the resurrection business isn’t going too well?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Bonnie takes a smaller drink. “It’s taking everything out of me. I mean, it’s like sifting through a thousand hells trying to find the right one. The nightmares it’s given me…”

Ric looks alarmed. “You can’t keep at it like this if it’s taking that much of a toll on you.”

“What other option do we have? For all we know, the longer they’re in there the harder it’ll be to get them out. I can’t just stop because I’m tired.”

“Sounds like a bit more than just ‘tired’ to me.” Ric sighs, then smiles a bit. “You... I mean, Bonnie, you are an amazing person. Putting yourself on the line time and time again for the people who have walked over you like it was nothing in the same situations. You have an ability to forgive that I never will. And I admire that.”

“It’s more than just that, Ric. I said some messed-up things to them that night. I can’t live with myself if that has to be our goodbye. And I owe it to Caroline, and Elena, and…”

“Yes, but will you promise me you won’t kill yourself in the process?”

“I tend not to be the most reliable on that front.”

“You’re nuts, you know that?” Ric finishes his glass. “Nuts.”

“It’s funny, Damon and I were saying the same thing about you in your office. About future dad-you, I mean.”

Ric chuckles. “It’s true about now almost-dad-me.” He signals for a refill. “But as your academic mentor and all-around questionable adult role model, I feel like I need to remind you of something. Reminding people of reasons they should be pissed off at you? Not the best strategy.”

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I tried to get him to leave.” They haven’t talked much since he cut Damon and Bonnie’s last conversation short. By entering his own office, that is.

“And I’m sure I don’t have to tell _you_ how Damon is an even _worse_ role model than me. If you can even call him that.” Ric appears like he’s about to down his newly filled drink in one gulp, but then stops himself and takes a much smaller swig. “But god damn it, I still miss the idiot.”

“Tell me about it.” Bonnie finishes her helping of bourbon as well. “And the last thing I said to him was that he was a terrible friend.”

“If it’s any consolation, you probably weren’t wrong.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t, but unfortunately it isn’t. Best I can do is get him back.”

“Can I ask you sort of a big question?” Ric has his serious face on. Bonnie’s both curious and nervous.

“Uh, sure.”

“What do you want to do with your life? I mean, after all of this is done, if we ever get to a point where we’re not dealing with any supernatural drama or catastrophic world-ending scenario, that sort of impossible thing. But have you thought about it?”

Bonnie doesn’t really know what to say.

“Look, like I said, it’s a big question, and I don’t expect you to really have an answer. When I was your age I didn’t even have a _semblance_ of my shit together. But you, you get good grades, your papers are excellent... you’re easily my best student, and I’m sure the same is true for some of your other professors as well. But I’ve also had the pleasure of knowing the incredible person you have already become. I think you will do great things someday. I know the real world may seem a little small after what we’ve seen, but that’s what it is: _real_. And it’s kind of amazing.” Ric looks surprised by the words coming out of his own mouth. He studies the glass before him. “Damn, maybe I had even less of a tolerance than I thought.”

Bonnie doesn’t say anything, she just leans over and hugs him tightly, tears of appreciation sparkling at the edges of her green eyes. “Caroline didn’t pay you to say all this, did she?”

“Huh? I could have been getting paid?” Ric jokes, hugging her back.

“Thank you. You’re right, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. But it really helps to hear nice things from a wise friend.” She sits back down and wipes her eyes a bit. “Or from Alaric Saltzman.”

“Hey! I’m wise. Once you turn 30 gaining wisdom is required.”

“And you’ve been procrastinating it worse than your grading, I take it?”

“Ouch.” Ric rubs his chest as if she’d punched him. “I pour my heart out to you and all I get are tongue-in-cheek insults? Maybe you can do standup tours.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. These days if I’m not being sarcastic or telling a joke it feels like everything inside me is on the verge of crashing down.”

“Lucky for you I’m a more durable punching bag than most.” Ric pulls something out of his pocket. “Anyway, the reason I ask the old-man questions is because of this.” He unfolds a piece of paper and spreads it flat across the bar. “All of the faculty got a few of these at the history/anthropology joint department meeting last week. We’re supposed to wait to hand them out until the beginning of the spring semester but I knew I had to show you.” It’s a flyer describing a graduate program at the intersection of history, cultural anthropology, and occult studies. “I’ve seen some of the research that’s come out of it and it’s fascinating stuff. Most of it is on post-colonial Native magical activity in the Eastern part of the continent. Herbalists in Salem, Cherokee skinwalkers, Quebecois Silas cults, —”

“Choctaw shamans?” Bonnie asks eagerly.

“Yeah I think so, why?”

“They’re the ones who made the Phoenix Stone. I wonder if they have any information about it that I missed.”

“It’s possible, Bonnie. But, look, don’t you think this was like, made for you? I don’t know how much fondness you have for academia—not that I have much myself—but opportunities like this don’t come along often. If you’re selected they give you a stipend and everything.”  
“It sounds great, Ric, and I appreciate you thinking of me. It’s just hard to wrap my head around anything big right now when I have so much I’m already working on.”

“Alright.” Ric sighs. “But please think about it? For me? If you try to be the witch guardian angel for vampires forever you’re going to end up dead. And from one resurrected soul to the other, I’m pretty sure it’ll be final this time. And believe it or not, I don’t want you to die.” He sips his bourbon. “God, look at me: two unborn kids and I’m already a sap.”

“You were a sap long before those little kidney beans, Ric.” 

“Touché.” He slides the flyer over to her. “Keep it. Mull it over.”

Bonnie picks it up and glances at it skeptically. “NYU, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never dreamed about moving to New York. And to get paid to go to school there? That’s the dream, my friend.”

“I don’t know. I can’t really seem to picture myself in ten years but if I could, I wouldn’t see myself behind a desk editing papers.”

“It’s not all bad. And there’s plenty of opportunity for field work. Some of my best memories are from the time I spent running around Europe like a broke Indiana Jones digging for artifacts and living alongside people and hearing story after story after story. There’s a whole world out there.”

“I’d at least look cute in one of those archaeologist hats.”

“Then you’re already a rung above me.” Ric downs the last of his drink and stands up, slipping his coat back on. “I should probably stumble home before this old liver gives out. You alright getting home?”

“Yeah, Ric, thanks. Do me a favor and send me all of the research you can find about the Choctaw from the NYU thing. Or even just their phone number, if anyone’s there over the break?” Bonnie stands up to give him another hug. “And I appreciate everything, so much. Whether you like it or not, you’re a pretty good role model.”

Ric’s ruddy cheeks are blushing adorably when Bonnie steps back. “If you say so. Oh, and Bonnie”—he puts a hand on her shoulder—“I am always here for you. As a teacher, as a friend, or just a drinking buddy. With everything we’ve lost, we have to stick together.” He smiles his sad half-smile and then turns abruptly to walk toward the door.

As she sits back down, the flyer catches Bonnie’s eye again. She allows herself to briefly lapse into daydreams about the future, and for the most fleeting of moments, a luminous spark rises above the murky torrents of guilt and anxiety and fear and stress and anger that roil within her, the first resurgence of an emotion she’d forgotten seemingly eternities ago: _hope_.

* * *

**< date unknown, closest approximation July 19, 2015 (continued)>**

_“Well that’s quite the incentive, Mr. Devil Sir. What exactly is this favor you need so badly? And if my choice is such a no-brainer, why have you brought me here five times?”_

_“Tell me, Malachai, what was it about you that caused you to be so intensely loathed, even as a child? What set you apart from all of the others around you? What made your father look at you with only disgust in his eyes?”_

_“Shut up about my—”_

_“You were not born with psychic energy. You absorb it from other things. And that makes you extremely useful to me, even in death.”_

_“Psychic energy? I suck up magic, Gabe. You’re getting wires crossed in your old age.”_

_“Ah, but see, no one seems to yet understand that psychic energy and magic are not entirely separate things. I, just like your sister, Josette, and all of your other siblings, was born with a special gift. But while they learned to transform that which lived within them into manipulations of nature from a young age, I had no such guidance. Instead, I was plagued constantly by unreliable and overwhelming premonitions, windows into others’ minds, unexplainable events always occurring around me without my consciously causing them. Sound familiar?”_

_“Wow. It’s like I’m back in high school philosophy class. What does this have to do with siphoning?”_

_“You died while in your own body. That means the ability to siphon remains within your spirit. Now, on Earth there is a particular spell I’m very interested in undoing, but this can only be done by a special type of witch.”_

_“Let me guess: a Bennett witch.”_

_“Don’t interrupt. And this special type of witch, whom you already know too well is infuriatingly moral, refuses to remove the spell of her own accord. Thankfully, I’ve discovered a way to bypass that.”_

_“Are you gonna kill her? You’re gonna fucking kill her aren’t you.”_

_“When someone dies, the smallest of doors opens between dimensions. For a powerful witch such as Ms. Bennett, this door will be much larger. Large enough for something to be pulled through along with her. With the help of a certain conduit, of course.”_

_“No, I won’t do it. You aren’t fucking with my spirit so you can kill Bonnie. I won’t do it.”_

_“And at last we arrive at the one inexplicable outcome that always occurs from these conversations: you invariably would rather suffer a terrible fate than allow harm to come to someone who has never felt anything but hatred and disdain toward you. It’s truly fascinating.”_

_“So this is why I’ve been here so many times? You couldn’t convince me?”_ _  
_ _“Correct. This time, however, is different, as I’ve discovered a way to bypass_ you _as well. Goodbye, Malachai Parker.”_

_“NO NO WAIT—”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonora road trip! Idk about you guys but I was LIVID when Mary Louise came along with them in the show and always wondered what could have been. Well, here's my take. It's also funny because I live in Cincinnati, so seeing it mentioned on the show is kinda surreal (there's definitely no criminal psychiatric hospital here). Anyway, in this chapter you get the way there, and next chapter you'll get the way back (and much, much more). Thanks for reading!
> 
> **Chapter 7 Soundtrack:**
> 
> The Velvet Underground & Nico – "Sunday Morning" from _The Velvet Underground & Nico_ (I know I already used a VU song but I wanted to specifically contrast that scene with the flashforward that begins the chapter)
> 
> Bon Iver – "Wash." from _Bon Iver, Bon Iver_
> 
> Arcade Fire – "Windowsill" from _Neon Bible_
> 
> Suuns – "UN-NO" from _Hold/Still_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Now also on Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**July 18, 2015 | morning**

_"Hi."_

_"Hi."_

_"How'd you sleep?"_

_"The best I have in a long time. You're like a big warm teddy-bear-body-pillow. That sometimes kicks its legs like a dog dream-chasing cars."_

_"Do I really?"_

_"Yeah, but it's cute."_

_"Well, here's one for you: your expressions change."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You'll smile, then look skeptical, then content… it's mesmerizing, honestly. Do you want to know something creepy?"_

_"Am I supposed to say yes to that?"_

_"Well I don't know, you're the one who's supposed to decide. It is a question, after all."_

_"Sure. Do your worst, creep."_

_"I went to the bathroom around three a.m. last night and when I got back in bed I didn't sleep. I just lay there and watched you. You looked so beautiful in the moonlight I couldn't tear my eyes away."_

_"If 'creepy' means 'sweet and extremely romantic in a classically Victorian sort of way' then creep away. Consider me a creep lover."_

_"Do you remember the automobile trip?"_

_"How could I forget? They always say that you can't be sure about a relationship until you put it to the road trip test. We got together_ because _of the road trip test. That's legendary."_

_"Far from the only thing that makes you legendary, Bonnie Bennett."_

_"You know, I could get used to this living together thing."_

_"I couldn't imagine spending my days and nights with anyone else."_

_"Nora, do you know how happy I am? I don't think I've ever felt this happy in my entire life. But with that happiness also comes the terror of it being taken away like it always is. So can you please put your hands on my shoulders and look me in the eyes and tell me that I have nothing to worry about?"_

_"Of course, my adorably paranoid love. Listen to me, you have noth—"_

_"Nora?... Nora! What is it? What's happening? Say something!"_

_"It's— it's my scar. It just opened up."_

_"What are—"_

_"She's back. And now I have to run."_

* * *

**December 20, 2013**

"Hey." The greeting feels at once too casual and not casual enough. The living room of the Lockwood house is thick with tension.

"Hello."

"Where are Beau and Valerie?"

"Apparently they received word of suspicious activity in a small town in... oh I never can remember the names of all these states, but anyway Julian has a tendency to turn those types of places into his own blood-soaked vampire utopia. And he brings his friends. He has lots of friends."

"Well that doesn't sound good."

"No, no it doesn't. They're going to go investigate. I told them not to do anything brash until we have a plan."

"If only Stefan had followed that advice, we wouldn't be in this mess." Bonnie sighs and drops onto the couch like a ragdoll. She's exhausted from combing through the research Ric forwarded to her from the NYU program, and although she found something that might be useful, it was a long shot, and so she still felt like a failure.

Nora steps forward nervously. While most of her outfit is composed of stunning clothes Bonnie's never seen before—a white, silver, and crystal gossamer multilayered skirt that looks like a falling snowflake; a dappled deep green sweater whose softness seems to physically emanate—but she's wearing the same pair of high-ish-heeled leather boots she was that day at the hospital. (They haven't spoken about it but Bonnie's gathered that Nora has sold a lot of her vintage accessories, shoes, and dresses to a few museums to fundraise for the memorial, the construction for which is currently underway, apparently taken on by an out-of-state contractor. Bonnie doesn't know if they're being compelled or not. She isn't sure she wants to. Hopefully they're at least sworn to secrecy.) "I assume you don't want to try any soul-searching today?" the beautiful heretic asks delicately.

"I thought you said you didn't like calling it that." Bonnie crosses her arms.

"Well, considering I've come to the conclusion that 'soul-searching' in any authentic sense is absolute rubbish, I changed my mind," Nora says as she lights some of the candles on the mantle on the fireplace.

Bonnie stares at Damon's lifeless body, lying with eyes closed on the table between the hearth and the couch. He almost looks peaceful. But she knows what he's going through is anything but. "No, I'm too tired, and we'll be useless without half of our crew anyway. But I did find something while researching that might help."

"Oh?" Nora turns away from the wall, excited for a second and then immediately downcast when she sees Bonnie flinch at the sudden movement. "I would never hurt you, you know."

"Could have fooled me," Bonnie says with gritted teeth. Before Nora can respond she continues relaying her discovery. "I found a rough summary of the spell someone translated from an original Choctaw document. Apparently all of the shamans who conducted the spell went missing afterwards, but the person writing the record doesn't know why. But they do say that the sword, the stone, and the huntress form a psychic link with the vampires whose souls they take. Maybe we're having so much trouble latching onto Stefan and Damon's souls because— are you okay?"

Bonnie has watched Nora's face grow paler and paler as she spoke these last few sentences. The brunette takes a deep breath and sets down the lighter, its plastic handle slightly crushed by her anxious grasp. "We can't. The huntress... she's dangerous. She'll kill me. And you, if she perceives you to be in her way."

"You know her?"

"Her name is Rayna Cruz. She's the one who stabbed Beau in the throat. When she wields the sword, any damage it inflicts does not heal. What's more, he is marked, so once the sword is returned to her she can track him at all times."

"Wait, so... you got put in the prison world in 1903. So if you knew this huntress, she'd be dead by now, right?"

"They gave her a psychic hell-stone and a sword that can permanently injure vampires, who's to say she's not immortal as well?" Nora's panicking, pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

"Hey, calm down." Bonnie's underlying aversion to Nora is replaced in this moment by the need to soothe. And also to be productive. "Let's think through this, okay? You've been out in the real world for what, six months now? That whole time, Oscar had the sword stowed away, Ric found the Stone in some random museum collection in Spain, and you all, even Beau, have just been here. If she were still around, still a threat, wouldn't she have found you by now?"

"I suppose so." Nora stops pacing, but still looks nervous. "But it seems like a bloody suicide mission to go offer ourselves up to her."

"We're not gonna offer ourselves up. Just investigate. Maybe she's on the other side of the world or dead and this is just another useless theory. But isn't it worth a shot to do a quick locator spell? I mean, we know for a fact this is hers," Bonnie says, holding up the sword.

"For someone who's not immortal, you are always remarkably cavalier about danger." Nora sighs. "Fine, let's do it. Besides, I owe you."

"Correct." Bonnie points the sword at her and tilts it upward as if it were a gun going off. "And if we both die, I take full responsibility."

"Well that's… comforting, I suppose." Nora looks around. "Do we have a map?"

"I don't think so, but there's definitely a flat world one at the Salvatore house. I'll drive over and get it." Bonnie gets up from the couch.

"Well why don't I come with you, and then we can just do the spell there?" Nora asks tentatively.

"If we end up having to drive to, like, Maine or something, I'm already going to have to be in the car with you for way longer than I want to be. Not gonna spare the extra twenty minutes or so of peace." It's mean, and childish, but Bonnie isn't feeling civil at the moment. She's tired and angry and fed up with everything.

Nora ignores the jab. "You don't know for certain that Mary Louise and Julian are gone. What if they're there, or show up while you are? I need to come."

Bonnie's about to walk out the door before she turns around and spits venom: "I'd feel a whole fucking lot safer with them than I do with you."

Nora's eyes are wide. Tears start to glint at the edges. Bonnie's heart cracks, mends itself, cracks again, and then just sort of mushes the jagged edges together. She wants her words to soften but they don't. "Come with me or not, I don't care. But I'm leaving now."

She's only sitting in the car for about thirty seconds before Nora opens the passenger side door and sits down in stoic silence, trying hard but failing not to cry. Bonnie aches with guilt but no sign of warmth escapes her ice-cold façade. They drive off.

* * *

"Ohio? Is this a prank?"

"Why, what's wrong with Ohio?"

"I don't know, it just seems a little... low-key for a vicious vampire huntress. More support for my theory that she is absolutely no threat whatsoever."

"But the locator spell worked, which means she's still alive, which is more support for _my_ theory that she's an immortal killing machine that will tear us to shreds as soon as we set foot within a ten kilometer radius of her." Nora stands up from where they'd been kneeling on the floor on either side of the large map. "I say we don't push our luck."

"If this is the only chance I have to save my friends, I am _not_ passing it up." Bonnie wipes the black salt off the map and puts it back in the cabinet where she found it. "And besides, how lucky are we that it's only a six-hour drive?"

"That's what makes me nervous. What if she _has_ been tracking us, and she's this close?"

"Only one way to find out, right?" Bonnie puts her hands on her hips. "You remember when you told me I was forgetting you were a strong powerful badass vampire and could fend for yourself? What happened?"

"I'M SCARED OF HER, OKAY?" Nora screams, then starts crying. Hard. "I still have nightmares about the night she found us in England. Beau was in the middle of a tune, so happy and hopeful, and then I watched her plunge her sword into his neck. She took away his voice FOREVER. I can't let something like that— I mean—"

Bonnie is speechless.

Nora calms down, and then says softly, "I can't let something like that happen to you."

Back is the crackling, electric tension in the air where their gazes interlock, the nourishing warmth deep within Bonnie's chest. "I didn't mean what I said before we drove here," she suddenly confesses.

"I know." Nora smiles and wipes some of the tears off her cheeks.

"I'm sorry I've been pushing so hard. I didn't think about what it must be like for you. But you don't need to worry about me, okay? I've gone toe-to-toe with Original vampires, took down the world's oldest immortal being—twice, felt the deaths of countless supernatural people when I was the Anchor, and fought both a violent sociopath witch and existential despair to escape from a prison the size of the entire universe. I can handle myself."

"I believe you." Nora's smiling even more now.

"Now, is my safety the only reason you were hesitant about this trip? Because if so, we are definitely going."

"Bonnie Bennett, if there's one thing I know about you it's that you can't be talked out of something. And to be honest, a good old automobile trip sounds like it could be fun. We never had those before; I've only heard of them on television and in movies."

"Well then don't get any ideas about us finding true love and making out against some dirty motel ice machine." It's a joke but Nora blushes adorably and looks away. "Have you ever heard of the road trip test?"

"No, what's that?"

"They say even relationships that seem perfect can fall apart after just a few hours crammed in a car together. So there's a good chance we'll hate each other afterwards."

"I highly doubt that," Nora says softly, almost in a whisper. The conversation trails off again and they're back to just staring at each other. Bonnie's looking forward to the consistent visual distraction of the road in front of her so these confusing moments don't keep happening.

"Alright, well Whitmore's kind of on the way, and I'd like to stop by my dorm to get some stuff. Ready to go?"

"As ready as I shall ever be."

* * *

Even when she was young, Bonnie had always secretly enjoyed long car rides. They meant hours of uninterrupted time to read or listen to music or draw or do whatever she did when she was a kid, tranquility she still found once she got her license and began driving herself around—set her up with a good playlist or a stack of beloved CDs and she could drive for days without stopping.

What's unfamiliar, however, is the presence of the one person that throws a wrench in all of Bonnie's set-in-stone ways in the passenger seat, who's currently looking through the music that's stored in the glove compartment. They haven't said much since departing from Bonnie's dorm, mostly listening to Arcade Fire's _Neon Bible_ in silence.

But something still eats at the witch even as she pretends to be focused intently on the highway before her. "Hey. I really am sorry about what I said. I think I was scared of you at one point but I'm not anymore."

Nora looks up. "Bonnie, you don't need to apologize. I wouldn't blame anyone for being fearful of me after how beastly I was."

"But see, that's the thing. Pretty much every member of my circle of friends has threatened my life at some point. I pushed you away, but if I'm honest with myself, after the first few days it wasn't really about what happened. It was something else."

"And what's that?" Nora asks, her voice curious, with a hint of something that might be hope.

It slips out before Bonnie has any time to stop herself. "I think you know."

Nora's silent, but when Bonnie briefly turns her gaze from the road she sees those mesmerizing green eyes boring right through her. "I'm sorry I've ruined everything between us. And it's all because of this stupid hold Mary Louise still has over me." Nora leans back and runs her fingers through her long dark locks in frustration. "There wasn't a single rational thought in my brain when I left your room early and ignored you and almost attacked you. It was just her, my devotion controlling me like a pathetic puppet."

"You wanna know what I think?

"Of course."

"I think that it's not really Mary Louise that has a hold over you. It's familiarity, stability that you want. She's been a part of your life for over a century, and it's hard to escape that no matter who the person is. So don't beat yourself up over it."

Nora doesn't say anything.

"Am I wrong?" Bonnie asks quietly.

"No, not at all. That's the thing, I..."—Nora abruptly pauses and turns her head to look out the window— "I know, deep down, that's what it is. And it's frustrating because I do know it, but I still act like I'm obsessed with her. It's like I'm subconsciously tethered to her. I can't stand it."

Bonnie surprises both of them when she takes Nora's left hand, which previously rested atop the center console next to three CDs she had picked out based on how much she liked the artwork ( _Ceres & Calypso in the Deep Time_, _Apologies to the Queen Mary_ , and _3 Feet High and Rising_ —Bonnie has been listening to a lot of old-school hip-hop thanks to tastes picked up from the extensive '94 Salvatore boarding house collection, and frankly can't wait to see what hilarious reaction Nora will have to it). She chickens out a bit and just gives Nora a comforting squeeze before letting go and saying, "These kinds of things tend to seem insurmountable... until you surmount them. I mean, I didn't think I'd ever get over Jeremy... I know we weren't together for a hundred and thirty years, but we'd been through so much, and the depth of our love so great, that the void it left was just too much. The fact that it was mutual didn't help, I felt like I lost an important piece of myself no matter what. And then... I stopped thinking about him so much. And then not really at all. I think that night we hung out in my dorm after dancing was the first time I'd made it official that I was over him, but looking back, I knew long before that." She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as she switches lanes to pass a slow-moving van. "Like I said, pathetic example in terms of scale, but…"

Nora takes Bonnie's hand this time, except she doesn't pull away. Her touch is light but purposeful on the driver's caramel skin as their fingers slip together as though they'd done so countless times before. "No, it helps. Thank you." She grasps a little tighter. "Is this okay?"

Bonnie bites her lip for a second, but then a radiant smile of contentment spreads across her face. "Yeah, it is."

* * *

The drive to Cincinnati was long but surprisingly enjoyable thanks to the sweeping vistas of the Appalachian mountains. The highways threaded through them in ways that almost seemed intended to emphasize the majesty of the surrounding expanses, stretching languidly beside and between the major elevation changes without taking them on directly. After it ejected the Arcade Fire CD, Bonnie's car player kept spitting new discs right back out, so they stuck with the road trip playlist she always made sure was saved on her phone for these exact situations. First she answered all of Nora's burning questions about modern music and how they got it to "sound so splendid" as she put it, ending up essentially giving a presentation on the history of contemporary pop culture in its entirety (she was particularly fascinated by the concept of mixtapes); then it was Bonnie's turn to listen as Nora described the "stuffy" orchestral performances and operas Lily dragged them to in Europe, so different from how things work nowadays. Bonnie taught her some classic road trip games, she taught Bonnie some old Victorian nursery rhymes and children's songs (which, to the witch, sounded like something out of a horror movie); they practiced reciting some two-person attack and defense spells in preparation; they playfully argued about fashion as Nora looked up various outfits from different decades on her phone; and sometimes they just drove in comfortable silence, their hands consistently finding each other in a warm, tender rhythm that neither of them acknowledged. Bonnie, at least, was too tired to think very hard about what things might mean. It just felt right.

Now, before they know it, they're crossing an extremely rickety-looking bridge over the Ohio River and entering Cincinnati. It's not even five o'clock yet, but thanks to daylight savings and winter's shortened sun cycle, darkness is already seeping into the grey frost-cracked sky, bringing a hush over the still-bustling city. After they pull over to do a more refined locator spell with a printed-out map of the city, Nora clumsily reads Bonnie directions as they try to find the address it pointed to, which appears to be some sort of state carceral facility.

After a few wrong turns, and Bonnie having to pull over one more time because she was laughing so hard after Nora had a violent row with the automated GPS voice, they arrive at the building, a drab, reddish-tan block of unadorned brick with _Stillwater State Hospital_ printed on a simple sign above the entrance.

"A nuthouse for the criminally insane," Bonnie remarks as they walk through the entryway, taking note of the metal bars and high-security doors that made it look very different from Mystic Falls General. "Seems promising."

"Well she is a deranged vampire serial killer," Nora replies. "Maybe karma caught up with her."

They're about to walk past a woman in dark blue scrubs standing at the check-in counter when she reaches an arm out to stop them. "I'm sorry, we don't allow unauthorized civilians past this point. Can I see some ID?"

Nora steps in front of her and looks directly into her eyes. "We're authorized personnel, here to see a patient by the name of Rayna Cruz. Tell us where to find her."  
Bonnie's seen compulsion in action more times than she can count, but it still never ceases to amaze her. The nurse immediately drops her standoffish poise and leans over her computer, where she types a few keys and then scrolls down. "Cruz, Rayna… North wing. Room 658."

"Thank you kindly." Nora looks into her eyes again. "Forget we were ever here or had this conversation. If someone sees us on the cameras you'll tell them we were curious students who wanted to explore."

"Well that was thorough," Bonnie says as they continue walking, using the keycard Nora had swiped from the desk to buzz through the heavy metal double doors at the end of the hallway.

"Dealing with an ancient huntress and a hell-stone is enough of an itinerary. We don't need to worry about being chased down by the bumbling human authorities as well."

Nora's walking briskly and speaking tersely, but Bonnie can tell she's scared. She touches the anxious brunette's arm. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. This is a high-security facility. She won't be able to hurt us."

"You say that like you've dealt with her before." Nora rubs her shoulder nervously. "But you haven't. She'll stop at nothing to kill people like me."

"Even if she's eighty years old and handcuffed to a hospital bed?"

They've arrived at room 658, whose contents are surprising to say the least. According to a notice down the hallway, the north wing is a lower security level than other areas of the hospital—Nora only had to compel one security guard—and it makes sense considering the cell houses a single old, sad-looking woman with snow-white hair.

"Well, I wasn't expecting this," Nora says before scanning the keycard to open the door.

"That's your vicious, big, bad, terrifying huntress?" Bonnie asks with raised eyebrows, stepping into the room behind Nora.

"She obviously wasn't like this back then!" Nora hisses back.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of you lovely young ladies? I almost never have visitors in this lonely place," the woman greets in a voice whose soft frailty immediately puts Bonnie at ease. This can't be the person they're looking for.

"This is Bonnie, and I'm Nora," the heretic says, surprisingly bold as she edges closer to the bed. "You're Rayna, correct?"

"Sounds right." The old woman sits up a little on her bed.

"And I don't look familiar to you?" Nora questions, the doubt thick in her voice.

"Should you?"

"Considering you chased my family and I across Europe for decades trying to kill us, I should hope so." Nora doesn't shout, but the anger is there.

"I'm afraid I don't know what any of that means." The woman smiles innocently. "You wouldn't happen to have a cookie, would you? They only feed me through a tube these days."

Nora looks at Bonnie, who gestures toward the door with her head. "We'll be right back," Bonnie says as Nora walks out without a word.

After pulling the door closed just before the lock clicked behind her, Bonnie asks, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes. This can't possibly be her. She must be here under a different name or something, if we haven't already given ourselves away by talking to this woman." Nora is scared and stressed again.

"Go look around. I'll get this nice old lady a cookie and see if she knows anything. Let's both agree not to do anything stupid unless we're together, okay? So don't open any doors. That way you'll be safe. Just ask around, see what you can find out."

"Okay." Nora vamp-speeds away, and Bonnie goes hunting for a cookie, which she finds in a small tin box in what looks like a nurse break room.

"Hard to believe they don't have vending machines in high-security psychiatric prisons, huh?" Bonnie jokes as she walks slowly back into the woman's room. "I had to get creative, but here's a cookie for you."

"What was your name again, dear?" the lady asks gently.

"Bonnie."

"You seem like a nice girl, Bonnie. What are you doing running around with a filthy vampire deviant?"

 _Ah._ "So you _are_ the huntress."

Rayna makes a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sigh. "I don't think you can really call me that anymore. Now I'm just an old woman in a dingy room, waiting to die."

The hair on Bonnie's arms is standing up. The shackles on Rayna's wrists and ankles look secure, but who knows how strong she still is. "How did you end up here?" She's trying to reach into her back pocket for her phone without making any sudden movements.

"I was careless. The drive to kill, bestowed upon me by the shamans, got a little scrambled in my old age. I staked a check-out girl at the supermarket." Rayna smiles a little too much for someone who's confessing to murder. "My mistake."

Bonnie's scared now, but for some reason she can't bring herself to move. She's just a harmless old woman now, right?

"Could you help me with the cookie, please?" Rayna asks innocently, and Bonnie shakes off her paranoia. _I'm not leaving this old woman whose only cold-blooded, ruthless mission is to eat a ginger snap._ She picks up the cookie, unwraps the thin plastic, and holds it up to Rayna's mouth.

And that's the last thing Bonnie remembers before everything goes dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen; the snow is falling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I lied, the road trip isn't over yet. But I don't think any of y'all will have much to complain about for this chapter. At least I hope.  
> To the reviewers both registered and anonymous, THANK YOU. I will respond to any that I'm allowed to. Feel free to reach out privately as well. I appreciate you all so much.
> 
>  **Chapter 8 Soundtrack**  
>  Tom Waits - "Bride of Rain Dog" from _Rain Dogs_  
>  You'll Never Get to Heaven - "Shared Dreams" from _Images_  
>  Black Moth Super Rainbow - "Baby's in the Void" from _Panic Blooms_  
>  Sigur Rós - "Rafstraumur" from _Kveikur_ (imagine the first chorus hitting right at _that_ moment at the end :O been excited for this song since before I even started writing this fic lol)  
> If you're looking for something even more low-key but still beautiful and relevant, look up "Listen, the Snow Is Falling" by Graham Lambkin & Jason Lescalleet. It's not on Spotify but it's on Youtube I'm pretty sure.
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Now also on Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**November 23, 1882**

_“What would you say if I told you that Hell was real? Not fiery, lakes of lava, brimstone, nine circles, Satan-ruled Hell. But infinite, agonizing, hopeless suffering after death—for those who deserve it.”_

_“I would say that I’m not too worried about it.”_

_“And why’s that?”_

_“Well, you said it’s only for those who deserve it. I wouldn’t ascribe myself to that category.”_

_“You’ve never done anything utterly reprehensible? Some transgression of which you’re so ashamed that you’ve never spoken of it aloud? Something that would seal your fate to eternal damnation?”_

_“Nothing comes to mind.”_

_“That’s interesting. Usually when I ask these questions the person to whom I’m speaking gets nervous, paranoid. They think I know something about them even if there’s nothing to know.”_

_“There’s plenty to know about me. But I’m afraid I have no sins to confess. I pride myself on living a pious life.”_

_“Is pride not a sin?”_

_“If we’re getting technical.”_

_“Aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be more knowledgeable about this?”_

_“I say, my child, why are we talking about this? Who are you?”_

_“I did something utterly reprehensible once. I am ashamed, and my fate is sealed. I simply seek companions alongside whom I can face my destiny.”_

_“So this wasn’t a hypothetical exercise? You really believe in this blasphemous bastardization of the Lord’s true will?”_

_“I don’t_ believe _, I_ know _, because I’ve seen it. Darkness, and pain, and regret, forever. It’s enough to drive the sanest man mad.”_

_“This rapport has certainly been lovely, but I really must be—”_

_“Don’t you want to know?”_

_“Know what, exactly?”_

_“What it is I did, what bound my existence to that infernal place?”_

_“No, I’m not sure I do.”_

_“I let my brother die. Everyone believes it to have been an accident, but I know the truth. We shared stewardship of a rather remarkable collection of... unique artifacts. But there was something that needed to be done that he would not do. And so when he happened to be heavier with drink than normal and slipped off a ledge during one of our excavations, I looked him in the eyes and watched him plummet to his death.”_

_“Listen, it really has been nice—”_

_"To some extent, it is easier now. There’s a certain comfort in being aware of one’s own kismet, no matter how bleak. The things she makes me do... years ago I would have cowered, become sick at the sight of my work. But she has a voracious appetite.”_

_“She? Who’s this ‘she’? What—”_

_“You weren’t honest with me this evening, Father. I am well aware of your degeneracy. How many young altar boys have you defiled since you began wearing that farce of a robe? It matters not; you are slated for uniquely excruciating torture once you’ve arrived. Her master does not take kindly to your sort. Which means she will find the taste of your flesh... exquisite.”_

_“Please, NO d—”_

_“Yes, yes, a big, juicy fat one for you tonight, Seline. Stuffed and bloated with hubris, ignorance, perversion, and the exorbitant feasts he purchased after pilfering the collection plate, he awaits your splendid jaws. I’ll carve the chest out just the way you like, burn the eyes to blackened crisps, crush the bones in his hands and feet to porridge, and twist the limbs back like so, and... oh, yes, he looks just like a roast, a delicious roast, doesn’t he? Don’t you think? Yes, yes, it’s your Dalton, yes... happy Thanksgiving, my beloved. Time to eat.”_

  
  


* * *

**December 20, 2013**

Bonnie wakes to find herself in a cozy, warmly lit motel room. She’s confused and disoriented at first, but usually when she comes to in a place she doesn’t recognize she has some sort of pain to deal with as well (whether it’s minor head trauma or a nasty hangover after a blackout), and at the moment she actually feels... good. Her body pulses with a comforting energy, and as she sits up on the bed to stretch and yawn she actually smiles.

And then all the memories come flooding back at once, where she was and what happened and oh _shit_ —

“Oh, Bonnie, you’re up.” Nora’s nonchalantly strolling out of the bathroom but freezes in place when she sees the other girl’s frantic expression. “No, no, it’s okay, we’re safe now. Don’t worry.”

“What happened? Why can’t I remember how I got here?” Bonnie rubs her head, now slightly concerned that there appears to be no detectable reason for her amnesia.

“I heard something clatter in Rayna’s cell and by the time I arrived, you were unconscious, she was dead, and Lorenzo St. John just about ripped my heart out when I stepped inside the door.”

 _“Enzo_ _?”_ Now Bonnie’s _really_ confused. “What the hell was he doing there?”

“You know as well as I.” Nora sighs and sits down on the room’s other bed. “He backed off and told me not to ask any questions. He only asked if I could take care of you, and as soon as I responded in the affirmative he disappeared with Rayna’s body.”

“He took her body with him?”

“I have no idea what he could possibly want with it, but yes.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s dead. It was a waste. This whole trip was a waste.” Bonnie’s temporary bleary-eyed contentment has completely vanished. Now she’s back to feeling helpless, weak, defeated. Hollowed out.

“Bonnie, I... there’s something I have to tell you.” Nora fidgets nervously. “I didn’t know how badly you were hurt, but it looked like she had strangled you and you hit your head on the hospital cart when you fell, and I didn’t want to risk—”

“Nora.” Bonnie looks at her reassuringly. “I have been healed by vampire blood more times than I can count. I’m not one of those people who turns it away out of pride or fear. If I were any of you, I’d want to save people whenever I could too.”

Nora visibly relaxes and brushes her long dark hair behind her shoulders. “I didn’t know how you would feel about it.”

“It’s okay, really. Thank you for saving my life,” Bonnie says genuinely, but with a playful smile. “But I’m not superstitious, I don’t think anyone’s more likely to go kaput if they have vamp blood in their system. So why are we in a safe house and not on the road?”

“Well, one, I can assure you that anyone is _much_ more likely to go kaput if they’re in an automobile that I’m driving.” Nora’s eyes dance as she watches Bonnie’s face contort into one of her favorite expressions, the one she makes whenever she forgets there’s still so much the heretic doesn’t know. “And two, turn around.”

Bonnie looks behind her to see a large landscape window to the right of the door that she somehow hasn’t seen before now. It’s pitch-dark outside, the void faintly tempered by the muffled radiance of old-fashioned street lights in the parking lot, but the glow of the moon alone was enough to illuminate endless seas of snow drifts. It’s piled up so high in the lot that most of the cars’ wheels are completely packed in. “Well that’ll do it,” she quips dryly.

“I hope this is all okay, I know there are a great deal of people with whom you’d rather be snowed in at a hotel than me, so I got us another room in case you…”

“I can’t exactly be scared of someone who saved my life, can I?” Bonnie asks. “And to be honest, there are at most…”—she looks to the ceiling as though deep in thought and pretends to count on her fingers—“seven better options. So don’t sell yourself short.”

Nora’s laugh is full and sweet and makes Bonnie’s face feel hot beneath the skin of her cheeks. “Seven. I can live with that.” She makes a motion like she’s about to stand up, hesitates, and then commits as she walks over to sit next to Bonnie on the other bed. “I am so sorry we couldn’t get what we needed from Rayna. If it makes you feel any better, she would probably have beat Enzo to the punch rather than help any vampires. She hates them more than anything.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Bonnie sees Rayna’s face flash through her mind, a mask of kindness that cracks slightly as the lips curl around the words _filthy vampire deviant_. Is Matt going to end up like that? With that much hatred in his heart? She shudders at the thought. “I’m just so lost, you know? We’re the only ones who can get them out, and we just _can’t_. I’ve never met a brick wall like this before and it’s ripping me up.”

“We _will_ get them out, Bonnie,” Nora says, looking into the witch’s eyes with a scorching intensity. “We _can_ , and we _will_. It may take longer than we hoped, and Caroline may not get her perfect Christmas with Stefan, but…”

“Oh shit, Caroline!” Bonnie had told her she’d send updates; she must be worried sick. She frantically searches for her phone before feeling a soothing hand on her forearm.

“I already talked to her. She knows where we are and that you’re safe. She says she’s going to try and figure out whatever she can about what Enzo might want with the corpse of a retired vampire huntress. She really is taking these constant dead ends remarkably well.”

“We’ll see if that’s still true if she’s faced with the prospect of a Stefan-less Christmas.” Bonnie is looking at Nora with a mixture of gratitude and fascination. She’s not sure anyone has ever taken care of her like this, known her anxieties and her comforts this well—not even Jeremy, who never fully got her no matter how supportive and receptive he was. Nora is something else. Something new.

“Thank you. Really. For everything. I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s nothing _to_ say. You would have done the same for me.” Nora says this casually, with a shrug, like it’s obvious—and it is. But it still makes Bonnie feel understood, a sensation she hasn’t felt in a long time. She’s usually the one doing the understanding.

“Yes, I would have,” Bonnie agrees. “But doesn’t one usually express gratitude when their life is saved?”

“I suppose. You can thank me by driving us out of this horrid city as soon as we can.”

Bonnie sighs and looks out the window again, her eyes scanning over the hushed white quilt that coated every inch of the world outside, snowflakes still curlicuing lazily from the shadowy sky. “I feel so helpless trapped here. It doesn’t seem right that my friends are suffering and I’m getting cozy in some random motel room.”

“It’s not your fault Jack Frost decided tonight was the night, Bonnie.” Nora is sitting about a foot away from her on the bed, her body constantly showing signs of wanting to move closer. “Beau and Valerie didn’t find Julian, either; the tip was a false alarm. So tonight I propose that we lick our wounds, rest, and reset for a fresh attempt whenever the opportunity arises. There’s nothing we can do save stopping every ten feet on the highway to cast some snow-melting spell, and I’d much prefer to get a good night’s sleep instead.” She looks at Bonnie with care shining in her eyes. “I know how being closed off like this makes you feel. And I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” Bonnie shakes her head and smiles a bit. “I’ve been exhausting myself over this so much that I haven’t exactly been in the clearest state of mind. Some Mother Nature–mandated R&R is exactly what I need.”

Nora smiles back. “Splendid. I imagined we might be in for a long stint, so I brought some supplies. Just so you know, people around here do _not_ seem to take kindly to well-dressed ladies with posh English accents,” she says as she gets up and begins to unzip her bag. “But they had no problem taking my money.” After rooting around a bit she pulls out two bottles of wine and a large paper bag of Taco Bell. “I thought you might be hungry, so I…” She watches bemusedly as Bonnie reaches for the bag like a starving stray dog. “A… crunchwrap supreme”—she says the words like someone speaking an alien language for the first time—“with beans instead of meat, potatoes instead of cheese, and no sour cream, right?”

Bonnie looks up at her in amazement. “How did you know?”

“I have my ways,” Nora responds with a knowing twinkle.

The witch raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t be so paranoid. Caroline told me it would cheer you up.”

Bonnie chuckles with a mouthful of delicious, abhorrently artificial “Mexican food” before swallowing. “I still can’t believe you got her number before mine.”

“I tend to have good luck with blondes,” Nora jokes with a pompous twirl of her head.

“Funny.” Bonnie takes another bite of the wrap and moans appreciatively. “You’ll have good luck with any girl if you keep this surprise Taco Bell thing up.”

“Good to know.” She sits back down next to Bonnie, who in her junk food stupor barely notices. “Do you need anything else?”

Bonnie looks pointedly at the food and then at the wine bottles. “You remember how you healed me, right? I’m not a geriatric. And besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve already provided my two favorite things.”

“Is that so?” Nora takes a joint out of the front pocket of her jacket. “This doesn’t rank among such prodigious company?”

“You’re joking.”

“Let’s just say I’ve found my own love for this strange little plant.” Bonnie’s bewildered expression is met by a knowing smirk. “Tell me again why it’s illegal but alcohol isn’t?”

“I think a lot of people would love to know the answer to that,” Bonnie responds, “but in my opinion it comes down to what enables law enforcement to have the most authority. Weed, and drugs in general, were barely in the public eye at all until the 80s, and drug-related arrests and violence were almost nonexistent. And then the War on Drugs began, a government effort to militarize police organizations all around the country by rewarding met arrest quotas with advanced weaponry and technology. The drugs themselves aren’t the problem; they just want reasons to control and oppress people.” Bonnie sighs. “Mainly people of color, like me.”

“And here I was telling Beau that things were better now,” Nora says, the smile wiped off her face. She looks at the joint with a new skepticism. “I’m so sorry, Bonnie.”

“It’s okay. I’m privileged enough to belong to a middle-class family with straight hair and relatively light skin. Cops don’t usually go after people like me. They go after people who look the most different from them, or the ones who can’t afford to fight back.”

“Valerie was right. Humans are the vilest creatures of all,” Nora remarks, disgusted. “I didn’t mean to bring all of this up. Is there anything I can do?”

“You didn’t bring it up. It’s pretty much always in the back of my mind. And as far as things you can do, you’re doing it right now. Listening. Learning. That’s all I ask. You’re white, so there are some things you can never directly understand. But that’s okay.”

“Okay.” Nora smiles a bit, then goes back to scowling as she states, “So many things change and yet everything stays the same.”

“Tell me about it,” Bonnie says. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re making progress, and I’m very thankful to live in this more accepting modern age. But more work needs to be done. And unfortunately it’s not as easy as just compelling the hate out of a few people.”

“I imagined as much. Well, now we have a new project to work on after all this Phoenix Stone business has been put to bed.” Nora slips the joint back into her jacket pocket. “First we free them from that hell, then we free everyone else from this one.”

“I think it’s a lot more difficult than you’re thinking. But I really appreciate your acceptance of the problem. It’s more than I can say for most people, sadly.” Bonnie sighs again. “I haven’t mentioned it yet, but Caroline told me about the memorial you’re having built.”

Nora’s cheeks redden adorably. “I didn’t mean to brag about it.”

“No, no, that’s not it. I wanted to say that it’s amazing. That you’re amazing. Most people’s idea of atonement is a few half-assed apologies to those they’ve wronged. You’re actually _doing_ something, _honoring_ who you hurt rather than just making yourself feel better. I respect the hell out of that. Pun intended.”

“Thank you.” The heretic relaxes. “I feel like Valerie thinks I’m a complete imbecile for doing it. Even Beau was skeptical. But I couldn’t sleep, or even live with myself at all, until I did _something_.”

“And _that_ is what separates ‘good’ from ‘bad,’ Nora. You’re _good_ . You’ve done bad things, sure, but you’re a _good person_. And that’s what matters.”

“Do you really believe that?” Nora’s voice is just barely above a whisper.

“I do,” Bonnie asserts. “And I also believe that I would really love to be high right now.” She crumples up the paper that her crunchwrap came in, which looks like it’s been licked clean by a ravenous raccoon. The high-calorie food is settling in her stomach and she feels warm, comfortable. Surprisingly not stressed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but let’s go outside. I’m sure you could compel the housekeeping staff to not tell anyone about the smell but I’d rather not worry about it.”

“Ooh, I was going to suggest that anyway. It’s not too cold and I just love to listen to snow falling.”

“But it’s silent.”

“Exactly.” Nora begins to bundle up as she continues. “I never thought I’d say it, but there’s one thing I miss about the prison world: the silence. It was so pure, so meditative. I would get lost in it at first, like I was drunk on it. And then right away I was sick of it, I just wanted there to be noise, movement, people, anything. But I’ve only been back half a year and I already miss that sublime stillness.” Bonnie can’t take her eyes off her as she tucks her long hair into a thick maroon scarf. “So, I’ll savor all the quiet snowy nights I can get.”

 _Does she feel this too?_ Bonnie feels a mysterious force pulling her every molecule toward Nora, telling her she needs to be closer, that _they_ need to be closer, that they can never be close enough. And for that reason she stubbornly remains on the bed, wary of what this force may cause her to do if they do actually get close. “That’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I rehearsed it twenty times while you were asleep. Aren’t you coming?” Nora completes her cold weather ensemble as she slips on her white mittens, but Bonnie hasn’t even put her coat on yet.

“Yeah. Just let me wash my hands first.” She does have some oil on her hands from her greasy dinner, but mainly she just wants a second alone to collect herself. Bonnie always thought the movie or TV scenes where a character would go splash cold water on their face to compose themselves were stupid. _No one actually does that in real life_. And here she is doing it for the second time, on the second of only two nights she’s spent with Nora. _Get it together, Bennett_ , she thinks to herself for the who-knows-how-many-th time before drying her hands and leaving the bathroom to go put on her coat, which Nora had folded neatly and placed on a bare section of the long entertainment center along with her hat, scarf, and gloves. Bonnie hasn’t been gone long but Nora has already relocated to the other side of the bed nearest the door and sits gazing out the window like an awestruck child. The sight sends a warmth spreading through her body that seems to render the layers irrelevant even as she’s putting them on. This was going to be an... interesting night.

“Alright, sorry, I’m ready.” Bonnie knots her scarf and tucks it into the collar of her coat as she leans on the wall near the foyer. “Do you think the snow’s too deep to go for a walk?”

Nora seems to snap out of a stupor and turns to Bonnie with the speed of someone startled, but her expression isn’t one of fear. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like we have much of a schedule to keep. And yes, probably... besides, neither of us really brought appropriate footwear for a snow romp.”

“Fair point.” Bonnie grasps the knob tightly so her fleece glove doesn’t slip around it and opens the door, half-expecting to be blasted in the face with arctic blizzard-winds like in _Monsters, Inc._ , but instead is met with exactly what Nora was describing: silence. Even as she steps out onto the balcony hallway there’s no distant hum of traffic, no music, no voices, no wind, just a swaddling shroud of nothing at all that gives the still air a kind of warmth despite the below-freezing temperature. The soft click of the door closing as Nora emerges from the room behind her is almost loud in the conspicuous absence of anything else. “It’s amazing out here,” Bonnie says without turning around.

Nora doesn’t respond, just joins her in leaning over the edge with forearms braced on the balustrade. They stay there like that for a few minutes, neither one of them saying a word: alone together.

The picturesque scenery and the omnipresent calm it evokes would be peaceful, meditative, intoxicating, all those things Nora had said earlier, except Bonnie isn’t thinking about the snow. Instead she’s thinking about the minuscule amount of contact their arms are making on the railing, the way a few locks of Nora’s hair have escaped her scarf and lie carelessly on her shoulders, the fact that everything she thought she was sure about has changed and the fact that it doesn’t scare her. But what does scare Bonnie is the thought of what might happen if she did something impulsive. She knows how hard it is to get over relationships of a few years, let alone centuries. It wouldn’t be right to act on what everything in her body is screaming at her to do. 

For better or worse, the decision is made for her. She feels Nora’s gaze on her and turns to see the other girl looking at her with a desperate intensity that she’s never seen before. It is new and exciting and electric amidst the serene nothingness that surrounds them. It’s quiet, so quiet, and yet Bonnie feels, maybe even hears a tremendous crescendo, building and building and building to…

Their faces have unconsciously drifted closer together and they’re only about six inches apart when Nora gently takes Bonnie’s chin in her hand. Her ears are pounding and her limbs feel like jelly but she is kept upright and frozen by the magnetic pull of Nora’s luminescent smaragdine irises. “Nora,” Bonnie rasps in a breathless whisper.

“Is this okay?” the brunette asks softly, shakily, sounding equally winded, their faces still gravitating toward each other.

Bonnie answers by closing the gap and the crescendo breaks and the moon shines its seraphic cleansing light onto the snow and their lips meet for the first time. Nora’s surprised at first but immediately relaxes and returns the kiss, sighing almost imperceptibly as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It’s slow and languid and tender and then they pull away, Nora’s pale cheeks rosy from both the cold and desire, Bonnie’s eyes hooded with want. They look at each other again, somehow with even more fervor, and then they’re kissing again, harder this time, Bonnie’s hands threading and grasping in Nora’s hair as she’d imagined so many times, Nora’s at the back of Bonnie’s neck at first and then running down her back to her waist, pulling their bodies as close together as their faces. They move as one and all of a sudden Bonnie’s back is pressed up against a wall and Nora lifts her up with her arms under her thighs and it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to her, their tongues have found each other now and it’s like neither of them can get enough, Nora tastes like nutmeg and cinnamon and a bit of mint toothpaste and it’s her new favorite thing, and when the taller girl pulls away she’s left panting like she’s just run ten miles.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t be making out against any dirty motel ice machines,” Nora says in between heavy, gasping breaths, causing Bonnie to notice what the “wall” she’s leaning against actually is.

“Shut up,” Bonnie shoots back, both of them smiling into another kiss, the faint, frail, gossamer sounds of inhales and exhales and lips moving together gently cutting through the sonic vacuum of the snow, the night air, the moon.

 _To hell with what happens next_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snap back to reality OOP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter, but some important stuff happens (and there's still plenty of fluff). Look forward to seeing Bonnie and Nora being a badass magic-team in the future... Julian better watch his back!
> 
>  **Chapter 9 Soundtrack:**  
>  Sol Seppy - "1 2" from _The Bells of 1 2_  
>  Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - "Telegraph" from _Dazzle Ships_  
>  Disco Inferno - "Footprints in Snow" from _D.I. Go Pop_  
>  Grog Organ - "I Walked Through the Snow" from _Fur Clemt_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**< date unknown, closest approximation February 1, 2012>**

_“No, no, this can’t be happening, I was supposed to touch the witch-bitch and cross over to the Other Side, where the FUCK am I?? Hello??... Is this it? Am I just—”_

_“Ms. Petrova.”_

_“OH God, warn a girl next time, please? I don’t who or what the fuck you are but where I come from, it’s not polite to spontaneously appear in front of someone and scare the shit out of—”_

_“I don’t think you’re one who should be lecturing me on what is ‘polite’ on Earth.”_

_“Are you the devil? Is this my hell? Talking to some straight-laced posh wannabe-mortician asshat about my sins for the rest of eternity? Well, let’s get to it. I regret nothing, got it? I did what I needed to do to survive. You’ll never break me.”_

_“Oh I’m well aware, Katerina. I’ve been observing you long enough to know that your cynicism, cunning, and obstinance are peerless among almost every other soul on Earth, with a few… notable exceptions. What’s more, you—”_

_“Hold up; ‘observing’ me? What are you on about now? You’re some kind of extradimensional spy?”_

_“Why don’t you just hear me out without interrupting every other moment?”_

_“Not really my style, Mr…”_

_“Arcadius. But please, call me Cade. After I finish, that is. I’m afraid you’ll have to be forcibly silenced, which will be painful but necessary... there. No, don’t try to speak, it will only make it hurt more. Now, where was I… oh yes. The serendipitous dose of the immortality cure you were given, it confirmed what I had always predicted. You were born to a Traveler bloodline. Your father was a Traveler, your daughter was a Traveler. Both of them are here, by the way. A conversation for another day. But your magical potential was never honed, your internal energy never nurtured into conscious spellcasting, and became dormant when you turned. Did you think all of those strange visions were a side effect of the cure? No, Katerina, you are a psychic, and a powerful one at that. So powerful that I was acutely aware of your existence from the moment of your birth. And since then, no other has even come close. So you could say that I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time. You may speak now.”_

_“HHH—… mm. Please don’t do that again.”_

_“Behave reasonably and I won’t have to.”_

_“Hard for me to ‘behave reasonably’ when every snobbish syllable that comes out of your mouth makes me want to be deader than I already am.”_

_“Have it your way. You’ll come around eventually. I may not be able to penetrate the minds of people on Earth, but you aren’t exactly one who keeps her thoughts to herself. And the Katerina Petrova I’ve come to know surely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be crowned the Queen of Hell.”_

* * *

**December 20, 2013**

Both of their eyes remain closed in that desperately intimate sort of way as their lips finally separate and they lean their foreheads together. The respite allows a restless thought that had been squirming around in the lusty haze of Bonnie’s mind to surface, the question tumbling from her parted, slightly swollen lips in something barely more than a gasp: “Are you sure?”

“I haven’t been this sure about anything in a long time. Maybe ever.” Nora finally opens her eyes to meet Bonnie’s gaze, their faces mere centimeters apart. “Are _you_ sure?”

“I don’t know,” Bonnie replies, then quickly clarifies: “I mean, I like you. I really like you. But I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even kissed a girl before.”

“You had me fooled,” Nora says with a satisfied smirk.

“I’m serious. I know it’s not a big deal but it’s still new and not only is it a girl but it’s _you_ and Nora I swear you make my brain twist up in knots—”

"Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Good. Very good. But it also means I say dumb stuff, like right now. I don’t want to mess—”

“I know what you’re about to say. Don’t. It’s okay. It’s as much a surprise to me as anyone that I am ready to move on so quickly. But I am willing to wait for you, Bonnie Bennett. This can become anything you want at whatever speed you want.” Nora reaches her hand up to where their foreheads are still gently pressed together and tucks some of Bonnie’s dark hair behind her ear. “Just as long as I can still see you. And talk to you. And kiss you every once in a while.”

“I’m okay with that.” Bonnie’s eyelids close once again as she smiles and presses her lips to Nora’s one last time. It’s a soft, gentle kiss, much more reserved than what they’d been doing a minute or two ago, but it still sends the same fire through Bonnie’s body, a feeling simultaneously freezing-cold and scorching-hot, the two extremes canceling out in an intense glow of tingling energy. 

“Can I tell you something?” Nora asks in an adorably timid voice once they slowly break apart.

“Anything.”

“I’m really happy you kissed me. I was so scared that I was totally misreading things and that I was going to ruin everything between us.” Nora looks down at the ground, moving a little back toward the balcony and leaning her arm on it, some renegade snowflakes gathering on her mitten-clad hand. She still doesn’t meet Bonnie’s eyes as she confesses, “Ever since we first talked at Scull I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Not once.” It appears to take her a great deal of effort, but Nora finally raises her head. “You are beautiful and impossibly sexy and your mere presence reduces me to a simpering mess, but you’re also kind, and funny, and intelligent, and probably the first person I’ve ever met that really understands me. So whether our relationship ends up being the sort in which we kiss or the sort in which we don’t, I need you to know that you are too important to not have in my life in some way.”

“How come everything you say sounds like it was read right out of _Jane Eyre_ , and everything I say is more like... I don’t know, a John Green book or some shit.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea who this John Green bloke is, but are you telling me you like _Jane Eyre_?”

“Oh, God no.” Bonnie brings a hand to her chest, as if confronted with something so offensive it physically wounded her. “Does anyone?”

“Only the entire literate population when we lived in England. I couldn’t walk five meters without seeing someone reading a copy on a bench, or overhearing ladies fawning over Rochester, or what have you. At least in the prison world we didn’t have to deal with romance-obsessed charlatans. But I will admit, the Brontës could all write most eloquently about love, even if it is all dull drivel.”

Bonnie grins. Nora’s rant has caused all of her vulnerability to completely dissipate. The joking around has broken the ice and they’re back to their familiar friendly rhythm. Bonnie can barely identify when the switch actually occurs; one moment she’s either laughing at Nora or doing everything she can to make her laugh, and the next her head is filled with images of sweat-sheened skin and twisted sheets and moans of pleasure. It’s maddening, and yet beautiful that the two can maintain such a delicate coexistence: something to cherish, not leave behind.

(Easier said than done.)

“Remember, like, fifteen minutes ago when our plan was to come out here to get high?” Bonnie asks with a chuckle.

“I think my brain may have been wiped of all of its memories up until then, actually,” Nora replies, contradicting her dry joke by taking the joint from inside her coat yet again and lighting it with a whispered _incendia_. She completes the smooth motion by taking a sizable drag like a seasoned professional, holding it in for a second, and then exhaling, the smoke almost indistinguishable from the large clouds of foggy condensation that formed when they breathed.

“Damn, I really turned you into a little stoner, didn’t I?”  
Nora looks at her with alarm. “What?”

Bonnie laughs. “It’s a word for someone who smokes a lot. Just a joke.”

“Well, that’s a lot tamer than I was thinking,” she says, passing the lit joint to Bonnie after taking another hit. “I used to hear horror stories about stoning when I was young.”

“I only know about it from the Bible. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first’ and all that. Have you ever seen it happen?”

“Thankfully, no.” Nora grimaces. “But I once saw the body of someone who had been punished for stealing something. This was somewhere along our trek across the country.” She shudders at the memory. “They had cut off his hands and feet and left him in the stocks to bleed out.”

“Jesus.” Bonnie winces, trying not to picture the gruesome scene in her head. “That’s fucked up.”

“Quite. I was only fifteen at the time as well,” Nora says, the last few words trailing off slightly as she turns to look up at the moon.

“I’m sorry.”

The genuineness of the condolence seems to bring Nora back down to Earth. “Bloody hell, we need some sort of alarm that buzzes every time we go down the gloomy path.” She accepts the joint when Bonnie offers it. “How often does one get a true break like this?” she asks, gesturing toward the smooth eddies of snow all around the motel. “The car’s probably buried in a good meter of snow—we couldn’t do anything helpful or heroic even if there _were_ something like that to do. We shouldn’t be discussing such horrors, we should be having fun.”

“Ah, yes, the eternally successful formula for fun: saying it out loud,” Bonnie quips.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. But I feel like we are pretty close now. I don’t want you to feel like you need to censor or monitor what you say to me. You can tell me anything.” The weed is kicking in and that slight self-conscious paranoid whisper in the back of her head is telling her that was too much.

But Nora’s grateful expression proves otherwise. “Thank you, Bonnie.” She blinks away tears. “You don’t know how much that means.”

“I have an idea,” Bonnie says sagely.

“Yes, truly the wisest of us all,” Nora responds, hugging her tight. The enveloping contact is both calming and catalytic for Bonnie, but the latter wins out when a shift of Nora’s hand at the small of her back sends a jolt of anticipation to her core and she pulses down there and all of a sudden her mouth is moving faster than her brain again and

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.” As soon as she says it Bonnie feels her cheeks and ears turn bright red in embarrassment. _Why the_ fuck _did she say that?_ Now she’s definitely messed—

Nora surprises her by laughing as she steps back from the hug and sees Bonnie’s expression. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re cute. Did my ‘let’s proceed slowly’ speech not have a lasting impression? We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

 _That’s not it. That’s not it at all_. “But I do want to.” Bonnie’s face turns an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’m just so nervous about it. And when we're close I... I can't stop...”

The heretic’s eyes narrow and her face draws in a look of heated desire that makes Bonnie’s knees weak. Nora steps forward and gently places her hands on the shorter girl’s waist, her gaze never dropping from their smoldering deadlock. “Don’t be nervous. When the time is right you’ll surprise yourself with how easy everything is.” She slowly runs her long fingers down to Bonnie’s hips, thumbs tantalizingly close to the top of her underwear. Nora savors the small shudders and tremors her touch elicits as she whispers, “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”

“Yes,” Bonnie rasps, her eyelids sliding shut in appreciation. The joint is long gone but its effects remain in her body like warm plasma, the body high increasing the pleasure of Nora’s caresses tenfold, each new contact inciting a jet of feeling that spreads over every inch of her skin. She doesn’t even register the cold anymore. The entire world is their faces and their bodies and their hushed words and Nora’s hands.

“Now touch me.” Nora pronounces these words in soft gasps as she takes Bonnie’s hands and brings them to her own waist. They’re still looking straight into each others’ eyes as Bonnie reciprocates the tame yet sensuous motions, her arms eventually slipping under Nora’s coat and wrapping around her slim torso. “See,” she breathes into Bonnie’s ear, her exhales quiet but heavy. “It’s easy. Instinct.”

“Or maybe we’re just made for each other.” _Oh God, too much way too much again—_

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it?” Nora blushes and smiles shyly. It seems Bonnie’s tendency to blurt frank romantic revelations won’t be an issue (and it certainly has been in the past). Nora’s just as much of a sap as she is. They stay in a kind of half-embrace for a few moments, swaying silently.

“I’m really high,” Bonnie suddenly confesses, giggling into Nora’s shoulder.

“Me too. I’ve been thinking about polar bears, like, this whole time.” Nora looks amused but then her face drops. “Where are they going to live with all this global warming business going on?”

“The Scandinavian ice-witches will save them,” Bonnie says.

“You’re making that up.”

“I mean, they’re not called ‘ice witches,’ it's some long impossible-to-pronounce Norse word, but they totally exist. And from what I’ve read about them they’re big on nature and living things. So I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a contingency plan for the polar bears.”

“You always say just the right thing to make me feel better,” Nora says warmly. “And I imagine I can do the same with the following suggestion... want to go back inside and eat the snacks I bought?”

“More beautiful words have never been spoken.”

* * *

After one of the bottles of wine, a bag of dark chocolate–covered pretzels, and plenty of handfuls of sweet chili Doritos, Bonnie’s feeling very full and very warm. Her sides are also aching from countless bouts of laughter (she isn’t sure whether Nora’s funnier when she _is_ or _isn’t_ trying to be). 

They’re lying on the reasonably soft carpet that covers the floor of the motel room, heads and shoulders interlocking like two children posed for a Christmas card so that when one talks or laughs the other feels the physical machinations that produce the sounds. Bonnie is drunk not just on the wine but on the fact that spending time with Nora is so _easy_ , that they can go from insanely hot sexual tension and deep confessions to best-friend silliness and rapport so quickly. Jeremy was her friend, sure, but there were still things she felt like she couldn’t talk about, sides of herself she couldn’t show. Nora is... different. Bonnie _wants_ to tell her things she hasn’t told anyone else, _wants_ to show all of herself. And it scares her, a bit.

“Have I told you about my family?” she suddenly asks out loud.

Nora gets up a bit, repositions herself so she’s leaning on her braced left arm and looking down at Bonnie. “No, you’ve never really mentioned them. Do you want to tell me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” 

Bonnie will never tire of seeing her smile. “I just have my mom now. She’s a vampire. Damon turned her into one a few years ago... it’s a long story. She was so lost at first but she’s doing really well with it now.”

“That’s great to hear. She certainly learned much more swiftly than me.”

“You didn’t exactly have great teachers.” Bonnie grins wryly. “I didn’t know her most of my life though. My dad raised me, and I spent a lot of time with my Grams. They’re both dead now; Grams died doing a rough spell and Silas murdered my dad in front of a crowd of people in Mystic Falls.”  
Nora’s free hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah, it was fucked up. I was a spirit on the Other Side at the time, another long story, and I was the only one who could even move or react. I couldn’t touch him to help him so I had to watch him bleed out from his throat while everyone sat still and watched. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” Bonnie chokes out this last sentence as thick tears start to form in her eyes. (Old scars being reopened in order for them to heal once again, more fully.) “But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was no one knowing. No one knew I was dead except Jeremy. I couldn’t cry with my friends, I couldn’t do anything to stop Silas. I couldn’t even go to my own father’s funeral.”

Nora has picked her up and started holding her as if it were a motion she’d performed many times before, her fingers weaving through Bonnie’s hair as she rubs the back of her head soothingly. “You are easily the strongest person I have ever met, Bonnie Bennett. You’ve lost so much, and yet you have never let that stop you from finding new things. I am so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” Bonnie replies, relaxing into Nora’s loose, cradle-like embrace. She uses both of her hands to wipe the tear tracks from her face. “It feels good to talk about it. I try to keep it buried but then I hate myself for forgetting him and it’s just a neverending vicious cycle. So thanks for listening.”

“Always.” Nora brushes away a tear that Bonnie missed with the pad of her thumb, her fingers hesitating near the ear before curling around the side of Bonnie’s and leaning in. The kiss is tender and light and gently puts everything back where it’s supposed to be. 

“I hate to interrupt this beautiful moment, but, earlier—you said you were ‘dead.’ I’m, uh, a bit confused.” Nora grimaces. “I’m sorry, that was such a brutish way to ask.”

“No, it’s fine.” Bonnie laughs. “My relationship with death is a bit more... complicated than most people’s.” She sits up a bit, still reclining against Nora. In an exaggerated English accent she says, “Is it time? Do you think yourself ready to hear the Tales of Bonnie the Brave?” 

“I… literally cannot think of a single other way I would rather spend my night than to hear these grand chronicles.” Nora vamp-speeds up to the bed to grab the other bottle of wine and is back in the exact same position before Bonnie’s fallen even an inch, but the disconcerting sensation along with Nora’s nonchalant expression as she _motus_ es the cork out of the bottle without missing a beat is the funniest thing she’s ever seen. She didn’t know it was possible to laugh this much in a single night. 

“What’s so funny? I thought that was quite slick,” Nora says half-defensively, taking a swig of the large bottle with a dexterity that would put even Kelly Donovan to shame.

“It was, that’s why I’m laughing.” Bonnie composes herself, takes a sizeable drink herself, and then sits up cross-legged as if she’s about to tell a scary story before a campfire. “You’re sure you’re ready? It’s a lot.”

“I can take it.” Nora leans back on her palms and looks at Bonnie attentively.

“Alright, your funeral. We’ll probably be here a while—I swear, saying it all out loud, it sounds like something out of a damn TV show.”

* * *

**December 21, 2013**

The major roads have all been cleared when they wake the next morning, but the snow that remains acts like a massive mirror for the early-day sun, bathing the motel room in painfully bright light. After snagging some muffins and coffee of questionable quality from the common area of the motel and checking out of their room they’re back on the road. 

Bonnie had half a thought that things would be awkward after their extremely intimate night, but waking up tangled with Nora, even stone cold sober— _especially_ stone cold sober—was the best thing ever. They shared lazy kisses and cuddled and sometimes just stared at each other and it was like nothing else existed. For the first time Bonnie’s first thought as her eyes shot open was not _What new way of failing am I going to discover today_ , but _I’m really happy to be here_. 

Bonnie’s trying to focus on driving, the music, the mountains, anything that will keep her mouth from drifting into a giddy smile, but she can’t; her mind constantly drifts to everything that happened and how good she feels and how happy she is that Nora is still here, right next to her, occasionally reaching over to take her hand or absentmindedly humming along to some of the better-known pop songs she’s come to know. Bonnie hasn’t forgotten about their Phoenix Stone troubles, but the task somehow seems more manageable now. 

And her careless good mood is only improved when her phone buzzes with a call from an unexpected source.

“Stefan??” she answers excitedly.

“Bonnie.”

“You’re out? How??”

“I’ll explain everything. But first, I’m so sorry Bonnie. You warned me how terrible of a plan it was and I went through with it anyway and now Damon—”

“Stefan, it’s okay. I’m really glad you’re back.” Bonnie’s eyes are watering with joy as she gives a curious Nora the thumbs up with the hand holding her phone. “I’m sorry I told you that I wouldn’t give a shit if you died. I can assure you, I gave plenty.”

Stefan laughs a bit, but his tone still sounds like he’s about to give news of someone’s death. “I’d never doubt that for a second. Listen, it’s good to talk to you, but there’s something you need to know. Apparently Valerie and Beau went to try to find Julian yesterday? The false tip was from him. And while everyone was gone, he took what he knew mattered to us the most.”

Bonnie’s stomach drops. “What happened, Stefan? Tell me.”

“He has Damon. And he says he’s going to burn the body along with the rest of Mystic Falls to ashes unless we do what he wants.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some heavy-duty touchy-feelies. CW/TW: Frank discussion of depression/suicide/self-harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 10 Soundtrack:**  
>  Regina Spektor – "Hero" from _Begin to Hope_  
>  Gowns – "Advice" from _Red State_  
>  Dead Man's Bones – "Dead Hearts from _Dead Man's Bones_
> 
> Also, happy late birthday to Bonnie (February 5)!

**Midsummer's Eve, 1790**

_"It is beautiful. You are a fine craftsman."_

_"'Tis not even completed yet. Save your laudations for when it is finished and functional."_

_"Witches, of all people, are naturally apt at finding the beauty even in the incomplete and unfinished."_

_"And your abilities never fail to amaze me, Bea. But are you ever going to bestow upon this lowly metalworker the reason he is constructing this strange bell?"_

_"Ethan, you know as well as I that we all want the same thing: these unspeakable monsters driven from our lands. The bell will ward them away."_

_"It simply troubles me that an entire coven of witches cannot replicate with their magic a device that is, in essence, an elaborate dog-whistle. If I am not worthy of the real explanation, so be it, but do not underestimate my ability to know when I'm not being given the whole story."_

_"You always were too clever for your own good."_

_"So I've been told."_

_"It is not that you are not worthy, Ethan, but simply that we do not even understand what we are trying to do well enough to tell you. The flesh-eaters that stalk the shadows around our town are not vampires. They are something different: older, darker. The witches have known for many centuries of the fate that awaits us upon death: eternally watching over our progeny from the Other Side. But the presence, the aura, of these... demons has made us aware of something beyond that plane. A vortex of fear, suffering, emptiness. A gaping sore where nature has been brutally torn open and left mortally wounded, from which countless souls cry out in agony. We have designed the bell to heal this wound, to reinstate balance."_

_"And you believe this is possible?"_

_"We are hopeful. The bell's rings will meld our energies into one, a concentrated blast similar in intensity to the one that created the vortex. It should be enough to dissipate it._

_"And what if it is not?"_

_"Then darkness shall claim us all."_

* * *

**December 21, 2013**

"He _what_?" Bonnie's vision is blurring in fury. She pulls over to the side of the highway.

"We have until the end of the day to grant his list of demands."

"Hold on, I'm in the car with Nora. I'm putting you on speaker so you can explain everything to her." Bonnie taps the button on her phone and sets it on the console before burying her face in her hands as Stefan repeats his summary so Nora can hear. Every emotion and nagging worry she'd been suppressing since the night before came crashing back into her at once, a river of blood and acid breaking through the dam and tumbling down in a grotesque waterfall within her, and she starts to cry.

"Bonnie, hey, we're gonna get through this. _He's_ going to get through this," comes Stefan's reassuring tone from the phone, but she knows he's not any more sure of that than she is.

"Do we have a plan?" Nora asks as she places a comforting hand on Bonnie's thigh.

"Not exactly. He's brought some... friends. We're outnumbered. And he's had Mary Louise cloak Damon, so no locator spell, no way of finding him."

"She's _still_ with him?" The heretic's face has transformed from one of empathy and comfort into rage. "For God's sake what does she think she's doing?"

"He was all too happy to tell me that taking Damon hostage was her idea. Revenge for when we did the same to her. Which makes sense."

"Except you and Valerie wouldn't have killed Mary Louise. But she and Julian will have no problem killing Damon." Rage has become disgust. The look in Nora's eyes quiets Bonnie's distress. They glint sharply as if lit by small, white-hot fires, surging with the fuel of betrayal.

"Right." Stefan sounds exhausted. Bonnie can't even imagine what he's going through, but then realizes she can just ask.

"How are you holding up post-hell?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask." He chuckles darkly, the sound cracking a bit as it buzzes through the phone speaker. "Not great. It took Caroline all morning to convince me I was actually out. Everything still feels off. But I think I'm okay."

"What are Julian's demands?" Bonnie's all business now. Better to occupy her brain stitching together schemes and spells than thinking about how everything was fucked.

"They're ridiculous. He wants us to leave Mystic Falls forever so he can turn it into his very own vampire debauchery den. He wants us to act as his advertisers, going around and gathering fresh blood for the new residents. And he wants us to find some bell for him."

"A bell?" This is getting more bizarre by the second. "Is that it?"

"He wants Nora too."

The two girls lock eyes. They exchange a whole conversation's worth of words in three seconds of intimate silence.

"Well he's not getting her." Bonnie starts the car and turns back onto the road.

"We agree on that. Now it's a matter of how we go about, you know, the brute force method."

"We'll be there in four hours. That leaves us the whole afternoon to work something out. We'll get him back, Stefan." Both of them are great liars when it comes to reassuring someone who's about to go on a suicide mission. Usually each other. For the same mission.

"I know." He hangs up.

Nora has her head turned toward the window, watching the spikes and slopes of land whiz by.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie asks her.

She's silent for a bit, then slowly shifts to face the driver's side, a motion Bonnie barely notices in her peripheral vision. But when she turns to look she sees tears pooling in Nora's eyes.

"Why is she helping him?" the brunette asks with an aching desperation that feels like claws against Bonnie's heart.

Their hands touch and fingers lace together. "I think deep down she knows she made the wrong decision when she chose Julian over you guys, but consciously she can't admit it, so she doubles down, does all she can to prove she's the type of person who _always_ makes the wrong decisions."

"This sounds quite familiar to you."

"When Elena was awake, and her and Damon were together, he acted in a very similar way. He is the most pathologically self-destructive person I have ever met."

"And you've forgiven him."

"Multiple times. For increasingly awful things, it seems." Bonnie shrugs and curls her lips into an _it is what it is_ half-smile. "Forgiveness is a tricky thing. It's even trickier when vampires are in the mix. I've found out that there are three kinds. You can forgive someone for them, but no one would ever do that consciously… it's more like you think you've really forgiven them but you're actually just making excuses for someone who has power over you. You can forgive someone for yourself, which the other person doesn't even have to know about—it just helps you move on, and it doesn't make whatever they did any more acceptable. And then you can truly forgive someone, when you actually let someone who's wronged you back into your life."

"But how do you know the difference between the first and the last?"

"I don't know if you ever really do. We just have to guess. And hope."

Nora sinks down in her seat and is silent for a minute before looking at Bonnie again. "Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about her?"

"Mary Louise?"

"Yes."

"No, why?"

There's no response, but when Bonnie turns Nora is giving her a pointed look.

"Okay, fine, but no, it really doesn't." She turns back to look at the road, starts to switch lanes and then decides against it. "Should it?"

"No, not at all, I just…" Nora fidgets. "I fancy you. Properly. It's new and it's exciting and I have never been so torn between the sensations of appreciating a person and appreciating the fact that they just exist at all. But I look back at almost my whole life and I see her, whether I like it or not. I don't miss her, I don't perk up the same way every time her name is said, I don't long for her touch. I don't love her anymore. But we have so much history, and there's nothing that can be done about that."

"Remember that girl I told you about, whose mother was in the tomb in Mystic Falls? Anna?"

"I think so."

"I can't remember if I mentioned that her and Jeremy dated. They were still together when his uncle used the device at that town event. John killed her himself. And then when I brought him back from the dead, he started seeing her. While we were dating."  
"Ohhhhh."

"Yeah. My boyfriend cheated on me with a ghost." Bonnie laughs dryly and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. "There's two kinds of pain: when there's an explanation and when there isn't. But they both hurt. I could tell myself all day that they never broke up and there was never closure and that I probably would have done the same thing if it were me, and I didn't cry any less. But because there _was_ an explanation, once the pain stopped, I could still love him. History doesn't mean anything, because as long as you're not a sociopath, there's always an explanation for what has gotten you to where you are today. People hurt each other. We love and lose and leave. But we are who we are. 'History'? It's overrated."

"You know, until I met you know I've never known what it feels like to be honored that you are the only one witnessing someone's words."

"I'm here all week," Bonnie deadpans. She's not really in a joking mood, but compliments make her nervous.

When she hears the word "week" Nora instantly perks up. "Bloody hell! Christmas is on Wednesday!"

"That it is. I'm trying not to think about it, to be honest." She feels a dull ache in her chest, a heavy weight pressing on her heart, as she remembers opening gifts and baking with her dad and Grams on Christmas Day.

"I assume Caroline has some ostentatious shindig planned," Nora replies. "You're not excited for that?"

"All I can think about right now is getting Damon back. If we can do it before Christmas, great."

"I don't think I've ever had a friend that cared as deeply for me as you do for him."

"When you spend four months in total isolation with someone, you form a bond that doesn't break easily." Bonnie's somber memories of her family are replaced by ones of Damon serving her vampire pancakes in the morning, and she smiles a bit. "I hated him for so long. And now I can't imagine living without him. Maybe it's me, maybe it's him, maybe it's both. But for whatever impossible reason, we're friends." She briefly glances at Nora, trying to make her face warm and encouraging even though those emotions are running on extremely short supply. "You have a whole eternity ahead of you. You'll find someone like that too. But for now you have me."

"Yes, you're my friend." Nora takes Bonnie's free hand with her long, perfectly manicured fingers and gently places it palm-down on her chest over her heart. Bonnie's eyes are still on the road but she tenses as the contact is made, suddenly swarmed with thoughts of taking it further, until she's distracted by the light but palpable thump of Nora's heart, slamming against her ribcage with a stuttering, agitated velocity. "But feel what you do to me. Every second I'm in your presence I am simultaneously perfectly content and unimaginably restless. You light a fire inside of me. That's more than friendship."

"You're right." Bonnie sighs. "And I feel that way about you, too." She moves her hand from Nora's upper chest to her shoulder and collarbone, which she gives a light comforting squeeze. "But I can't have the _what are we?_ talk right now, I just can't. Not while Julian has Damon, not while he wants you too. I can't lose you."

"You won't, Bonnie."

"That's what everyone says. Until they're wrong." They've just crossed over the Virginia state line; only about two hours or so to go.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm kind of the more durable one out of the two of us."

"It doesn't matter. Everyone dies." Bonnie's tone is dull and dead but tears are starting to well in her eyes. "My Grams, my dad, Jo, Caroline's mom: all of the best people, the ones who didn't deserve it. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck the point is in forming attachments when this is the world we live in. I can't look at anything anymore without imagining its expiration date." She shakes her head vigorously, trying to stave off any more crying. "I know it's not logical but I can't help it."

"You of all people should know how little sway logic has when it comes to the things we feel," Nora says sagely, once again laying a soothing hand on Bonnie's thigh—a new favorite thing for both of them. "So you shouldn't fault yourself for these thoughts. But may I make an observation that might sound a bit callous?"

"Pretty sure I'm the queen of those, so do your worst," Bonnie answers.

"Do you have such a fear of loss because of the specific people you're afraid of losing? Or because you yourself are just afraid to be alone?"

Bonnie is silent as the gears in her skull churn, processing what Nora has just said. Her immediate instinct is a defensive one; she wants to deny such a ridiculous accusation, resent the implication of selfishness disguised as selflessness. But the more she thinks about it, the harder it is to refute. So she simply asks, "Why do you say that?"

"You've been utterly alone more times in your young life than most will _ever_ be. Isolated and weaponized by a narcissistic psychic. Confined to the Other Side for an act of ultimate sacrifice. And then the prison world." Nora pauses, clears her throat, then cautiously says, "Is there by any chance something you left out of your account last night?"

The blood drains from Bonnie's face, giving her that soft but horrible chill of anxious dread. She is filled with so much shame about that day—her birthday—that she hardly thinks about it herself. If Jeremy hadn't been able to stop her... "How did you know?" Talking to Nora is enough of a distraction. It has to be. She's trembling, doing all she can to drive in a straight line; luckily it's lunchtime on a Saturday and they'd hardly seen anyone on the long, winding mountain roads they'd been snaking through for the past hour or so. Ironic, to discuss this _in_ a car.

"Because…" Nora hesitates again. "Even though I wasn't alone I—, I tried once, too."

Silence.

Then, "Really?"

"Yes. We'd been in for a few years or so and had used almost all of the blood we scrounged from slaughterhouses, save the supply Lily set aside for rationing. Oscar was arguing constantly with Malcolm and Lily because he wanted the stored blood and we were all hungry and tired and it was miserable and Mary Louise was being so horrible and I just couldn't take it anymore. I went out into the woods that night and staked myself."

 _Now_ Bonnie pulls over. When they roll to a stop and she puts the car in park she expects to see Nora in tears, but the other girl is surprisingly calm, seemingly just waiting for Bonnie to respond. "You staked yourself? Like, fully?"

"Well, it was actually more of a thick tree branch, but yes, and then I died." Nora unbuckles her seatbelt, turns her body toward the driver's side, pulls up her long legs and sits with them crossed over the seat. "But I came back. It was like those moments when you start to doze off and catch yourself, only when I woke up it had been a few hours, as if I'd simply blinked." She messes with her hair a bit, still remarkably composed for someone telling the story of not just an attempted, but an actual suicide. "The Gemini coven made the prison world for each and every one of us. None of us could have died even if we wanted."

"Kai's was that way too." Bonnie's a bit too awestruck to contribute anything beyond simple questions or observations.

"Right. Anyway, so I knew I couldn't die, so I decided to just make do. Once we started to desiccate time passed rather quickly, and there was obviously no longer any arguing. But... it haunts me. And I recognize the same haunting in you."

"You're right." Bonnie sits cross-legged as well, facing Nora as if they're kindergarteners on the storytime mat. "But first, thank you for telling me. I'm sure you can guess that it's not something I like to talk about, since I told you so much but still left it out. And it can't be easy for you either. So thank you."

"I've had many, many years to come to terms with it. But you haven't. It's perfectly acceptable not to be comfortable discussing it."

"I know shame isn't a good thing to have, but…" Bonnie bites her lip. "I'm ashamed. I'd been in there for almost a year and it was my birthday and I just couldn't take it anymore. When literally all I had to do was take a road slash raft trip to get the tombstone, which I _should_ have thought of. I was about to kill myself for nothing."

"No one tries to, or does, kill themselves for nothing. If a person truly feels they would be better off not being alive, or that the world would be, they have their reasons. Those reasons may not be correct or acceptable generally, but they were to the person, so they didn't do anything wrong. No one should feel ashamed. Regretful, maybe. Grateful, certainly. But not ashamed."

Bonnie's crying because she's right and it doesn't help. She still feels pathetic and weak and like someone who always gives up. "I know. I can't help it."

"It's a process. A matter of accepting what we did and then defeating the things that caused us to do it. I'll always be working on mine, and I believe you know what yours are." Nora reaches both of her hands up and tenderly holds Bonnie's face, wiping away some of the tears running down her nose and cheeks. "You are strong, Bonnie Bennett. Stronger than anyone I've ever known. There is no place for shame in anyone's heart, let alone yours."

"Thank you," Bonnie answers quietly, her head still cradled by Nora's light touch, and then they're looking to each other's lips and leaning in and Bonnie breathes in a lungful of her sweet addictive fragrance as they kiss softly and tentatively at first and then with more urgency, and Nora's starting to lean over on top of Bonnie when they fall onto the steering wheel and honk a loud squawk from the horn that scares the shit out of both of them, and then they're laughing and it's like everything resets.

"We really are something, aren't we?" Bonnie says as they settle back into their seats and she starts the car again, both still giggling and breathing heavily.

"Even the boat ride to England wasn't as tumultuous as our emotional oscillations," Nora agrees. "But something tells me things won't always be so volatile."

"Step one of emotional stability: don't listen to what the voices tell you to do." Bonnie puts the car in drive and pulls back onto the highway.

"Well, they were the ones that told me to kiss you just now, so…"

"Fine. Just every once in a while, then."

Their hands interlace once more.

* * *

A hundred or so miles from the girls, Bonnie's inactive laptop, left plugged into the wall in her dorm for the trip, lights up with a notification. A new message to 83R7brtH19xz from Freya Mikaelson, subject line _When Can We Meet?_

Thirty minutes' drive beyond that, Julian and Mary Louise sit sipping drinks in the filled-to-bursting Mystic Grill, its oak floors slick with blood, Damon's inert body laid out as if for a funeral pyre across two tables. Within the Stone, he dies painfully and horribly for the 96th time.

Across town, Stefan and Caroline are on a lunch date that's cut short when the younger Salvatore assaults an unsuspecting waiter, believing him to be his brother coming to hurt them.

And seven miles northeast of Mystic Falls, Rayna Cruz, naked and dizzy and disoriented from her fiery reincarnation in a cell in the Armory basement, hears Sybil's haunting croon for the first time. It's just one word, dressed up and extended by the Siren's seraphic voice, but discernible nonetheless:

"Soon."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action! Excitement! Romance! The all-consuming bleakness of human existence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one! Doesn't have much of a happy ending but I promise the next chapter will be much fluffier and more good vibes.
> 
> I need y'all to weigh in: yay or nay on Christmas cuteness? Is it too late (or early??) to do it in February? Would love to hear your thoughts.
> 
>  **Chapter 11 Soundtrack:**  
>  D'Angelo & The Vanguard – "Ain't That Easy" from _Black Messiah_  
>  Lewsberg – "After Lunch" from _In This House_  
>  Sonic Youth – "Shadow of a Doubt" from _EVOL_  
>  The Dreebs – "Reese" from _Forest of a Crew_  
>  Sufjan Stevens – "Fourth of July" from _Carrie & Lowell_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**Feb 4, 1995**

_"Child, listen to yourself. You're not making any sense. You just need to slow down and we can—"_

_"I'm not gonna slow down, Mom! I need to go. Somewhere else, anywhere but here. And you know damn well why."_

_"Bonnie needs you. She needs her mother, Abby. It's her birthday tomorrow."_

_"You think I don't know that? You think my heart doesn't feel like it's tearing in half? It already did once when I told Rudy. And now you're trying to talk me out of it too."  
_

_"What am I supposed to do, just let you walk out that door and run away from all your problems?"_

_"I am doing this for_ her. _You and I both know how powerful she's going to be and she needs someone like you to guide her, not someone like me. You saw what I became when I used that dark magic."_

_"I saw what anyone becomes when they cross a line to help a friend. You're not a bad person, Abby."_

_"But I'm a bad witch. Always have been. I can handle a lot of power but I can't do shit with it, save turn pompous British pricks to stone. Just because I'm a Bennett doesn't mean I'm cut out for this life."_

_"That's where you're wrong, child. Witchcraft is whatever you want it to be. Herbalists and gardeners work just as much magic as the most belligerent warlocks. You being a Bennett doesn't force you to live this life, but it does mean that family comes before everything. If you leave now, you're not doing it for her… you're doing it for you."_

_"You can think about it however you want, Mom, but I'm going. And tell Rudy he's being ridiculous about the name. Hopkins will make more sense since he's her guardian now, and who knows how long it'll be before someone comes looking for fresh Bennett blood, just like Mikael came for Elena? I mean, she's three years old, for Christ's sake!"_

_"You walk out on your daughter, you don't get to say what name she goes by. Bonnie won't hide from her ancestry just because you're ashamed."_

_"Whatever. You can feel guilty about it when everything goes to shit."_

_"You know, you'll come around, Abby. You will. I'm not saying this as a suggestion, I'm stating a fact. I just hope when you do, it's not too late. If not, maybe we can all be a family again."_

* * *

**December 21, 2013**

"Holy shit, Care, are you okay?" Bonnie holds her phone in the crook of her neck as she fumbles with the half-broken lock to her dorm, her bag dangling haphazardly from her wrist.

"Yeah, he didn't go after me. To him it was like he was protecting me." Caroline huffs over the phone. "I knew we shouldn't have gone out so soon. But I was so excited he was back and he insisted he was fine and—"

"Caroline. Do not make this your fault somehow. We have enough to deal with." She stumbles into the room, tosses her stuff on the bed, and makes a beeline for the shower. After long car trips she always feels like there's a thin layer of grime on her that needs to come off before she does anything else. Like, say, negotiate a high-stakes supernatural hostage situation in which the fate of her best friend and hometown hang in the balance. No big deal, just a little soapy-soap and then down to business.

"Ugh, you're right. Am I wrong for having a terrible feeling about whatever is going down tonight?"

"I don't think there's any other way to feel about it." Bonnie sets the call to speaker, puts her phone on the counter, and starts to peel her two-day-old outfit off. "Do you think Stefan's gonna be any help?"

"I honestly don't know. He says he will, but he also said he would be fine going to lunch, so…"

"Well, we have the heretics on our side, so I'm cautiously optimistic." She pads across the cool tile over to the tap and starts the water.

"Are you in the bathroom right now?" Caroline's voice sounds exaggerated and scandalized, as if Bonnie were calling her from a strip club.

"Yeah, about to take a post-car-trip shower."

"Oh my GOSH it totally slipped my mind how was your night?" Kidnappings, ultimatums, hell trauma… for Caroline, nothing comes before gossip. "Did you have hot skeezy motel scissor sex?"

"I'm hanging up on you," Bonnie singsongs before hitting the button to end the call and finally stepping into the shower, sighing contentedly as the warm water thudded against her skin, already soothing her sore muscles. She revels in the silence, or rather the absence of any sound other than the gushing tap; she usually listens to music while she's in the shower but didn't put anything on this time because of Caroline, but it's alright because it's like everything that got wound up so tightly within her finally has space to relax and reset. Regardless of how she feels about Nora, the past twenty-four hours have been physically and emotionally exhausting, and she needs some time alone to process it all, clear her mind before she goes back into action.

Bonnie closes her eyes and moves her head directly under the flow of the showerhead, humming low and deep in her throat like a cat getting a well-timed neck scratch. This was time for her to be alone, yes, brief as it was, but even in her hot-water-induced reverie she can't stop thinking about Caroline's obscene final comment over the phone. She didn't _regret_ that her and Nora—well, more like just her—elected not to fuck in the motel room, but the deliberate abstinence also meant that the already-unbearable sexual tension between them had reached dangerous levels, near-fatally exacerbated by their mutual acknowledgment of attraction... and yet tantalizingly unfulfilled. After their emotional moment in the car, the rest of the drive back had been light and good-natured—Bonnie teaching Nora how to sing along to her favorite songs, pointing out parks and hiking trails her dad used to take her to when she was a kid, both of them ranting in riotous agreement at the nasty Evangelical billboards along the freeway—but she couldn't get the way Nora had touched her on the motel's snow-dusted loggia, how the brunette's slender, dextrous fingers had brushed all the right places on her lower abdomen and hips. She closes her eyes again and surrenders to the memory, hears Nora's hoarse, needy whisper slip into her ear once again: _Do you like it when I touch you like this?_

Beau had picked up Nora once they got back to Whitmore, agreeing to meet Bonnie at the Lockwood mansion before sunset to work out a plan, but right now, in her momentarily tranquil yet mercilessly horny mind, the tall emerald-eyed heretic is here under the glorious surge of hot water with her, devastatingly sexy in the same passion-charged silent glare she'd ravished Bonnie with the night before, her lips cooing sweet nothings into the witch's ear as she slides her hands down to Bonnie's hips, except daydream-Nora doesn't stop there, instead grazing her knuckles across the magic spot with increasing pressure as her caresses continue to explore every inch of the intimate space bared before her. Bonnie imagines her trailing kisses down her whole body, from her own lips through the sensitive skin between her breasts then over her toned abdomen and finally the physical center of her desire… head still directly under the nozzle, eyes still shut in blissful pleasure, she teases her own hand between her legs and starts breathing more heavily as she thinks about what it would be like to look down and see Nora's luscious, water-dampened hair splayed against her thighs as she

"Bonnie? You in here?"

She just about jumps out of her skin and nearly slips and breaks her neck. After everything, what a way to go that would be.

"Who ELSE would be in here, Caroline?" Bonnie asks with palpable irritation, after regaining her balance and shaking herself out of fantasy-land. "You couldn't even let me shower in peace?"

"Need I remind you that I still live here, and we only have one bathroom?" Over the sound of the water she can hear her roommate setting up her makeup arsenal. Bonnie sighs and squirts a glob of shampoo on her palm—so much for sexual healing. "At least I didn't walk in on any saucy shenanigans."

As she washes her hair, Bonnie calls back, "So, I was under the impression that this _I need to be involved in other peoples' love lives_ would eventually go away once you had a stable love life of your own."

"Then you, Ms. Bennett, do not know me as well as you think. I'm _always_ about the gossip. You don't have to tell me. But I'll never stop asking."

"That's kinda fucked up, Care."

"Oh, hush. If it really, truly bothered you, I have enough faith in myself that I would know, and I have enough faith in you that you would have said something to me. But deep down, you like it." She says these last three words all snappy and sensual, the angelic love guru in a lingerie commercial. And even though Bonnie's annoyed by how she is _always_ fucking right, she laughs, because it's Caroline.

"Fine. Yeah, I like her. We didn't have sex. But we kissed." She's finishing up soaping her body and hooks her hand briefly around her neck, remembering how Nora clasped both of hers in the same spot she—

There is no way Caroline hasn't reacted to the revelation by now. Did she drop dead? Bonnie sticks her head out of the curtain to see her blonde friend finishing an unsurprisingly impeccable gloss application with an expression on her face like someone about to explode; as soon as she caps the tube and rubs her lips together she looks back to the shower, sees Bonnie's peeking head, and shrieks, "You WHAT?"

"How did you go that long without saying anything?"

"Didn't want to mess up the look, honey. But this is now a conversation that we should not have while one of us is in the shower and we're half-yelling at each other."

"Agreed." Bonnie dips her head back behind the curtain. "I'm almost out and then we can head to Mystic Falls together. On that subject, explain to me why you're getting dolled up for what may very well be the first battle of a literal vampire war?"

"First, I hope you're not implying that your extremely pregnant friend will not be fighting in said battle. Second, if we and our town are going to die a horrible fiery death I might as well look stunning for the occasion." Bonnie hears the cabinet above the sink close and the bathroom door open. "Hurry up and get out here," Caroline says just before it closes.

Bonnie laughs as she finishes up and dries off. She keeps expecting the overwhelming shroud of dread that had gripped her that morning to return, but it doesn't; something is inexplicably telling her that everything's going to be okay, that they're going to get their friend back and keep their town in one piece.

Mindfulness? Bullshit. Confidence, though… that helps.

Sometimes.

She wraps one towel under her wrung-out hair and another around her torso and steps out into the main room, where Caroline is lying on her back in bed, staring at the ceiling and pressing her palms against her bulging belly as if she were holding it in place. She looks at Bonnie and smiles. "They're kicking!"

"Oh my God, can I feel?"

Caroline nods and Bonnie skips over, holding her towels in place and trying not to slip as her still slightly damp bare feet slide over the smooth wood floor. When she reaches the bed Caroline takes her by the wrist and moves her hand to where her own had just been, and after shifting its position a bit Bonnie immediately feels a faint thump followed by a much more forceful one. "Wow, they're strong."

"You have no idea. Sometimes it feels like they're clawing me, trying to burst out like in _Alien_."

"Would be just our luck." Bonnie chuckles at her own joke, but trails off as the next and strongest fetus-kick causes a strange feeling to course through her body, originating at the point of near-contact between her and the almost-children. "Whoa," she says quietly in surprise; it's not necessarily an unpleasant sensation, but certainly a bizarre one: like something unnameable is echoing from a hollowness within her. It's the same thing she felt the night of Mr. Tanner's murder, when she realized the numbers she'd been seeing all day were morbid augurs.

"What? Is something wrong?" Caroline is suddenly on high alert, a mode that's been on eternal standby since she first realized she was expecting.

"I'm not sure. I just got a weird feeling."

"This better not just be an excuse to get out of telling me about this kiss."

Bonnie rolls her eyes, filing away her unusual reaction to the instinctive spasms of the in-utero witches in the _to worry about LATER_ section of her brain. "You got me."

"Knew it. So? What's the star-crossed story? How did these two beautiful debutantes evolve from mortal enemies to passionate lovers?"

Laughing, Bonnie responds, "You are wayyyy too good at this newscaster thing already. I expected you to follow that up with 'find out at 11!' And can't we save the gal-gush-sesh for the car ride?"

"About that…" Caroline sits up. "I'm gonna stay here. You know, in case Mystic Falls does go up in flames. I couldn't talk Ric out of helping, though, so he can take you."

"That's a much better idea anyway." Bonnie sighs in resignation. "Can I at least get dressed first?"

"Why are you acting like I'm holding you at gunpoint?"

"That is literally the state of mind that your impatient stare creates in people."

"Good, then it's doing its job." Caroline pulls out her phone as Bonnie works out an outfit suited for both violent confrontation and looking hot for Nora. What a life she leads. "I'm making Stefan check in with me every hour. He seems fine now that he's alone indoors."

"If he's having side effects this soon after getting out, I wonder if Valerie had the same and was just hiding it. Or maybe not since we got her out so soon." Bonnie pulls on a form-fitting black sweater and wrings her wet hair out with the towel once more. "Did he tell you anything about what he went through in there?"

Caroline looks away, seeming upset. "He said the Stone was trying to convince him to let go of Damon. They were both human and drowning in the quarry and every time Stefan tried to save Damon, they both died, and then his mother would tell him that his real brother was dead and that he would never be happy as long as Damon was still in his life. He said that letting go of Damon's hand and swimming to the surface was the last thing that happened before he got pulled out."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah. Logically he knows it isn't the truth but I think deep down it really rattled him. I've never seen him like he was in the restaurant earlier today. He truly believed that Damon was there and that he was going to hurt me."

Bonnie plops down on her own bed across from Caroline, trying to process this information. "That's so fucked up. I can only imagine what it's going to be like for Damon when he gets out. Whatever that thing is trying to convince _him_ of, he's not going to give in until it totally breaks him."

"I thought the same thing."

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Caroline blurts out, "Okay I am LITERALLY dying to hear about my best friend's steamy new love interest, are you going to tell me about it or what?"

Bonnie goes to look at her phone, but before she can even pull it out the blonde says, "It's not even three p.m. yet. Which means you have at least an hour before you and Ric need to leave. _Spill_."

The witch sighs in resignation. "Alright, fine. But you can keep your usual judgy side commentary to yourself this time."

"No promises, darling."

* * *

"How do you know they're at the Grill?"

"We've been doing locator spells every hour. They're not trying to hide."

"And Damon?"

"Still cloaked. We have no idea."

Bonnie grunts in frustration. She leans against the wall of the Lockwood living room, which is also occupied by Ric, Valerie, Beau, Nora, Matt, and a very exhausted-looking Stefan. Bonnie's wondering how he's even conscious, let alone ready to fight an entire horde of vampire squatters. "So what's the plan? If there even is one."

"I'm going in first." It's the first word Bonnie's heard Nora say since she got there. They'd exchanged a few warm looks but hadn't had a chance for much more than that. "I'll tell them that I'm giving myself up, and that everyone else is looking for the bell."

"Does anyone know why he wants a bell, of all things?" Ric chimes in.

"Why does Julian do anything he does?" Nora shoots back.

"You'd certainly know better than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Guys, hey, this isn't helping," Stefan interjects, quietly but firmly. "The goal is to get Julian to let his guard down as much as possible. We have to assume he knows we're planning something."

"I put an obfuscation spell on the house, so whenever we're here it'll appear as if we're all in different places, even if Mary Louise tries to track us," Valerie says.

"Sure, but I'm saying we need to operate under the premise that he knows we're up to something. That way there are no surprises. We just have to play into his ego and try to catch him unawares. Think you can do that?" He asks this last question directly to Nora.

"I know I can." There's a devilish sparkle in her effervescent green eyes that Bonnie can't tear her eyes away from.

"Right. Then you try to convince Mary Louise to go somewhere with you, leaving Julian alone. Then I go in, distract him while Matt, cloaked by Beau, and Ric, cloaked by Valerie, approach from both directions. If you don't have a perfect shot, don't take it. None of us are dying tonight."

"And where do I fit into this, exactly?" Bonnie asks.

"You'll help Nora take down Mary Louise. She thinks if she siphons enough magic from her the cloaking spell will break. But you need to do the brain melty thing so she can't fight it off."

"'Brain melty thing'? I'm so glad you have such respect for our craft, Stefan."

Valerie and Beau laugh, but Nora won't meet Bonnie's eye anymore. Is it too weird that they're about to be incapacitating her ex together? _I suppose as far as first (or second? third?) dates go, it's pretty damn weird._

"Just do everything you can to make sure we can actually find Damon once Julian's taken care of."

"Sure thing." Bonnie is trying to give Stefan a look that will tell him there's something they need to talk about privately, but he doesn't notice. She elects to covertly text him.

"Does everyone know what their role is?" Matt's voice sounds almost alien to Bonnie's ears. He seems like an entirely different person every time she sees him these days. "I'm not exactly happy to be working side by side with all you," he says, gesturing to the heretics, "but I am putting my faith in you sticking to the plan. Like Stefan said, none of us are dying tonight, so if things get bad, don't take any unnecessary risks. But the most important thing is communication. If something goes wrong, make sure _everyone_ knows as soon as possible."

"We meant what we said, Matt," Nora tells him softly.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he says stoically. "You really want to make good on what you've done and help me save my town? Then do it."

Stefan, oblivious to Bonnie's surreptitious glances earlier but well aware of the rising tension in the room, claps his hands together loudly and announces, "All right, well let's get going." He finally checks his phone, briefly flashes a look at Bonnie, and then continues, "Bonnie, you're with me. Ric, you ride with Matt in his squad car. You can drive, right?"

He's looking at Beau, who nods.

"Good. Let's make the clock tower our base. Can you cast another one of those obfuscation spells, Valerie?"

"Absolutely," she answers, a little too enthusiastically. Bonnie raises her eyebrows. By now she's come quite adept at recognizing the symptoms of the pervasive affliction known as Stefan-thirst, and this is a particularly nasty case.

"Good. Then you guys go ahead and leave now so you get there first."

They staggered the departures so that the heretics left, then Matt and Alaric, and finally Stefan and Bonnie bringing up the rear in the former's sleek red Porsche he adored so dearly. Once the Mystic Falls PD sedan pulled out of the driveway, it was the first time they'd been alone since long before Stefan was even stabbed. It seemed an intense friend-bearhug was in order, and so it was before they began walking down the paved gravel to his car.

"I really am sorry about what I said. You know, before."

Stefan chuckles, stuffing his hands deeper into his thick fur-lined jacket and bracing it against the vicious wind whipping their faces and bodies. "I know, Bonnie. And I'm sorry for acting like a complete idiot. I already wanted to kill him before, but now…" He clenches his jaw. "I just need to find a way to stay focused."

"Caroline told me about the, uh, hallucinations."

He gives her a sad look as they reach the Porsche and he chivalrously opens the passenger door for her. "I haven't seen him since the restaurant earlier today."

"Does anyone else know?"

"No."

The car is moving now, and Bonnie can see the turmoil Stefan refuses to outwardly acknowledge in the strained, white-knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel. "Stefan, are you sure you're up for this?"

He doesn't answer for a while. "No. Are you?"

"Fair point, I guess." She looks out the window at the snow-choked landscape. "I just can't lose you for good. _Caroline_ can't lose you for good."

"I know. But it's the same for Damon. So we either die trying to do what's right or attempt to stay safe by avoiding it and probably die anyway. Just like always. I'd say we've had reasonably good luck so far."

"That's news to me." Bonnie hesitates, then says what she knows she needs to say. "Remember how many people make your life a happy one. I don't know what that Stone tried to tell you, but you are loved, Stefan. No death-wish tonight, okay?"

"Don't worry about me." He looks over at her for the first time since he put the car in gear. "Worry about you."

"Alright, well, in that case… Julian may not be our only problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I got in touch recently with a witch from New Orleans. Or more like she got in touch with me. And you'll never guess what her name is."

"What?"

"Freya Mikaelson."

Stefan's brow furrows. "Mikaelson? As in the Original family?"

"The one and only."

"Since when has there been a sister other than Rebekah?"

"I have no idea. But she said she needs my help. I think there's something big going on here, Stefan. She mentioned the same bell that Julian was asking us to find."

"That is... an interesting development." He taps his fingertips on the gearstick contemplatively. "What does she want you to do?"

"She wants to meet me. Here, in Mystic Falls."

"Will she be bringing any of her lovely siblings along?"

"I told her that probably wouldn't be a good idea."

Stefan rubs his head. "Things just keep getting weirder and weirder."

"Tell me about it."

"So what is so important about this damn bell?"

"Apparently it's too sensitive of information for anything other than a face-to-face meeting."

"Which probably means it's really bad."

"Trying to stay positive, but yeah." Bonnie clears her throat. "Hard for me to even consider any other possibility."

"Well if it was urgent, she wouldn't have waited for you to reach out. So once we take care of this, pull Damon out, we'll have at least a few free days, right?"

Bonnie squints at him in exaggerated disbelief. "Since when are _you_ the one who looks on the bright side?"

"I just got back from hell. Where else should I look?"

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Just surprised, that's all." They're coming up on the heart of downtown and Bonnie is shocked to see a dense crowd of biker-looking types around the Grill. "Are those all of Julian's vampire friends?"

"Yeah." Stefan strains to see through the low light and turns the car around. "Probably best not to drive right by them. There's way more than I thought there'd be."

"What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into," Bonnie mutters to no one in particular.

* * *

"Alright, Nora and Mary Louise just left through the side door." They're all hanging around the small stuffy room at the top of the clock tower, mostly silent from awkwardness and anticipation until Stefan finally breaks the reverie. "Everyone ready?"

No one answers. Bonnie shrugs. Beau clears his throat.

"Right. Well, see you on the other side." And with that he falls backwards out the window. _So extra_ , Bonnie thinks. She gives a wordless, pursed-lipped _well, this is it_ look to Matt and Ric and heads down the winding staircase. As she walks she casts the vervain-skin spell that Valerie used on Caroline. It wouldn't hold any vampire off for too long, especially Mary Louise who could just siphon it away if she held on long enough, but she hoped it would give her enough of a window to react and defend herself.

Before she herself died, Bonnie thought about death and what it meant almost all the time, to the point where she'd occasionally wonder if something was wrong with her. She would stay up all night conjuring progressively bleak afterlife possibilities in her mind, and usually ended up scaring herself so badly that she would refuse to leave the house for days afterward. But something about her life actually ending, and her coming to terms with that, has ameliorated those anxieties. She no longer feared either dying or what came after, because she knows what the former felt like and that she'll deal with whatever form the latter took now that the Other Side was destroyed. She's a Bennett. They have more important matters to worry about.

Once Bonnie reaches the bottom of the stairs, she casts a quick cloaking spell on herself—doesn't have to be perfect in the dark—and gently steps outside onto the sidewalk, hurrying to where the crude concrete steps descend to the alley along the side of the grill, trying not to think about the enormous crowd of loud, drunk vampires that seemed to have grown even larger since just half an hour earlier. As she rounds the corner she immediately hears the faint sound of raised voices—one of which blesses her dreams, while the other is more likely to haunt her nightmares—and knows she's almost reached her target.

"Should I not be suspicious that it took this long for you to come to your senses and apologize?" Mary Louise is saying in her typical grating rich-girl snark. "You cut me off for almost a month and now you come crawling back? Why should I give you the time of day?"

"You're out here, aren't you?" returns Nora's much gentler tone. Bonnie has her back against the brick just before the stairs, leans her head even closer to hear better. "We were together for over a century. That means something. That will always mean something."

"You should've thought of that before you threw the ring back in my face."

"The ring _Julian_ gave you!"

"If you're still going to carry on about how awful Julian is, I don't see why you even came back."

Bonnie's phone buzzes in her pocket. It's Stefan: _NOW_.

"I don't either," Nora confesses, which Bonnie takes to be as much a sign as any. She sucks in a deep breath and then rounds the corner, mercilessly popping blood vessels all throughout the blonde bitch's brain. Mary Louise brings her her hands to her head in pain, gripping fistfuls of her hair as she whirls around to see Bonnie descending toward her clenching her hand like fucking Darth Vader. The witch expects the shock and betrayal in her eyes, but she also expects there to be some sort of hesitancy in Nora's, a change of heart once things actually got violent. But even through the ashy dusk Bonnie can see the fiery glint of furious determination. It almost gives her chills.

Mary Louise is even more shocked when Nora dashes to her and begins to siphon from her arms. Bonnie remembers that the process is closely tied to emotions, so the brunette must be extremely angry if she's draining her this fast. Within seconds Mary Louise collapses to the ground, and Bonnie immediately grabs a syringe of concentrated vervain from her belt, uncaps it, and drives it into the catatonic heretic's neck before collapsing onto the bottom step, exhausted and breathing heavily.

Nora seems to just now process what has happened and makes an ambiguous expression.

"Hey," Bonnie says quietly in between gulps of air, "can you cast a cloaking spell around us? I'm not strong enough to do much right now."

The words snap Nora back into action and she quickly utters the incantation before running over to Bonnie. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

"No, I'm fine and no hold on wait I'm trying to keep up this vervain-skin spell"

"Ah." Nora moves back a bit, embarrassed at her instinctive doting. She looks down at Mary Louise, checks her pulse, and then looks toward the door to the Grill.

"Can you hear anything in there?"

"Just sounds like a normal busy night."

"That's either really good or really bad."

"Any word from Stefan?"

"No not y—" Bonnie's phone rings. She picks up without even looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"

"We got him." It's Stefan. She breathes a sigh of relief.

"Julian? Or Damon?"

"Both," he says, sounding similarly de-burdened. "They just had him right there at the grill. I couldn't see him at first, obviously, but then suddenly he reappeared which caught Julian off guard, and then Matt staked him with his giant gas-bolt-gun thing."

Bonnie's listening to what he's saying but she's also watching Nora, who's having an even more difficult-to-decipher reaction to the news of Julian's death than she did to their attack on Mary Louise. But beneath the confusion Bonnie sees, or at least thinks she sees, the same sensation of a massive weight lifting off her shoulders.

"So the plan worked."

"It seems that way," Stefan responds.

"Doesn't that seem… weird to you? That nothing went wrong?"

"Extremely. I'm looking at Julian's dead grey body right now and I keep expecting him to spring back to life and go on a murderous vengeance rampage. It's all just too easy."

"Well, if he's dead, and Mary Louise is down for the count, then we at least have some time to figure things out."

"Yeah. I'll meet you back where we parked. Valerie wants to do the honors of getting rid of the body."

"As she should."

"Agreed. Alright, well good job tonight. Stay safe. Remember there's still a whole army of hungry vampires out and about."

"Will do. Thanks, Stefan." She hangs up and immediately looks back to Nora, who's still standing with the same dazed, half-satisfied half-horrified expression on her face. "You okay?"

"I think so." Nora looks down at Mary Louise's motionless form as if it were an alien object. "I was expecting to feel sad or guilty but I just don't feel anything. I think part of me hoped that she would finally prove me and everyone else wrong and do the right thing for once. But she just dug her heels in deeper."

"In the long run, I can't imagine a better learning experience than losing an amazing person like you."

Nora smiles bashfully, her face tinged with a hint of sadness. "Thank you, Bonnie. I hope that she can one day atone the same way I have."

"Let's wait at least a couple years before we reevaluate though, shall we?"

"Of course. Even if I still felt something toward her I would know that keeping her down is the right thing to do. If she was willing to send Valerie, her own sister, to hell, there's no telling what she might do, especially now that Julian's dead." She gently picks up the blonde heretic's unconscious body. "We're taking her to the Salvatore mansion, right?"

"Yep. Stefan and I are headed there now. I'd ask you to ride with us but his car—"

"It's alright. I need to have a long talk with my family anyway."

They look at each other, silently, awkwardly.

"So…"

"I should probably get going." Nora starts up the stairs. "Thank you for your help tonight. We make a good team."

Bonnie wants to say something grand and romantic, like _stay, I need you_ or _when can I see you again_ ; she'd even settle for something simpler like _hey, wanna hang out tomorrow?_ But instead all of the hypothetical words catch in her throat, and all that comes out of her mouth is "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bonnie," Nora returns, without turning around.

With every step the distance between them swells, and not just in a physical sense. Bonnie feels like Nora's leaving forever and there's nothing she can do to stop it. Some unholy cocktail of anxiety, self-sabotage, doubt, and misplaced empathy keeps her feet rooted to the ground and her lips stubbornly shut. When Nora, barely more than a shadow now, disappears around the corner, it's like there's ice in Bonnie's veins.

Eventually she drags herself in the direction of Stefan's car, trying not to notice the conspicuous lack of adorable Christmas decorations that usually festooned the buildings and streetlights, the way even the air doesn't feel right anymore, the overwhelming greyness of the world. Broken, hollow, spent, a single tear slips down her cheek, freezing to her skin almost as fast as it emerged.

She doesn't notice.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in February...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long!
> 
> **Chapter 12 Soundtrack:**
> 
> Marble Arch – "I'm on My Way" from _Children of the Slump_  
>  The Radio Dept. – "Against the Tide" from _Lesser Matters_  
>  The Diggs – "It's Just Like You Say" from _Commute_  
>  The Flaming Lips – "The Abandoned Hospital Ship" from _Clouds Taste Metallic_  
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** : <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**John Renfro Davis – “The Trappan’d Maiden” (17th-century colonial folk song)**

_Five years served I, under Master Guy,_

_In the land of Virginny-o_

_Which made me for to know sorrow, grief and woe,_

_When that I was weary, weary, weary-o._

_When my dame says go, then I must do so,_

_In the land of Virginny-o,_

_When she sits at meat, then I have none to eat,_

_When that I was weary, weary, weary-o._

_As soon as it is day, to work I must away,_

_In the land of Virginny-o_

_Then my dame she knocks, with her tinder box,_

_When that I was weary, weary, weary-o._

_I have played my part, both at plow and cart,_

_In the land of Virginny-o_

_Billets from the wood upon my back they load,_

_When that I was weary, weary, weary-o._

_A thousand woes beside, that I do here abide,_

_In the land of Virginny-o_

_In misery I spend my time that hath no end,_

_When that I was weary, weary, weary-o._

* * *

**December 24, 2013**

“Hello?”

“That’s all I get? ‘Hello’? Did you even look at the caller ID?”

Bonnie didn’t; she’s currently rushing to wrap all of her last-minute presents in time for Caroline’s Christmas Eve dinner and picked up her buzzing phone absent-mindedly. But she’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Damon???”

“The one and only.”

“How... what—”

“Long story. We have a lot to talk about. But for now, I just have a short message. Nora says to tell you happy Christmas. I told her we say ‘merry’ here but she insisted.”

Bonnie’s heart isn’t sure whether to swell or shrink at this information, so it just sort of twists and aches in an uncomfortable way. She does her best to cover it up with humor. “So you being back is my Christmas gift? Big whup. I wanted a motorcycle.”

“And I wanted to spend the entire month of December _not_ reliving the most traumatic moment of my life over and over and over. But sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

“Damon, I was just—”

“I know. But Bonnie, to tell the truth, I’m not sure I’m even the same person anymore. Everything looks and feels fake. I keep expecting this to be an abnormally long loop and I’m just waiting for it to end and reset.” Damon’s words sound broken yet shaky and unstable, like he might be on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I know exactly what you should do. You’re going to come to Caroline’s dinner party and you’re going to spend time with your friends and remind yourself that the people who love you are what makes reality real. We love you, Damon. _I_ love you. You’re going to get through this.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.” He sighs, the sound slightly distorted through her phone speaker. “But Caroline will probably kill me all over again if I don’t come to her party now that I’m out.”

“Without a doubt.” Bonnie purses her lips, debating whether or not to say something. “Have you talked to Stefan?”

“Not yet. You were the first person I called.”

She smiles despite the depressing nature of their conversation. “Aw. Too much.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, you should go see him. Since he got out he’s been having... trouble. Seeing and feeling things that aren’t there. I don’t know if the same thing will happen to you, but—”

“That fucking Stone is so evil, I wouldn’t be surprised.” He sighs again, more like a huff this time. “Alright, I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay. See you tonight?”

“You bet.”

“I’m so glad you’re back, Damon. And I’m sorry that the last words I said to you before you got sent to hell were ‘you’re a terrible friend.’”

“Don’t apologize. Can’t think of a time that statement hasn’t been true. But I’m working on it, I promise. I’ll never let you down again.”

 _If he really has changed, maybe it’s for the better._ “Those are big words.”

“I have a big heart.”

“Don’t I know it.” Bonnie looks at the mess of recycled gift bags, reusable wrapping paper, and presents on the floor before her. “Alright, well I have a bunch of stuff to do before tonight. Stay safe, okay? I’ll have my phone all day. Don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thanks, Bon. Oh, and I may or may not have given Nora your phone number. Seems like she has the hots for you and I’m nothing if not a matchmaker. Good luck!”

Bonnie growls when he suddenly hangs up. Is her and Nora’s connection really that obvious to everyone? What gives him the right to give out her phone number?

She’s angry for a minute until she remembers junior year of high school, when Elena was doing her best to sabotage her budding relationship with Stefan and Bonnie gave him her contact information. _She’s big on texting, and you can tell her I said so_ , she had told him. She smiles at the memory. _Don’t be so uptight, Bennett_ , she tells herself.

As if on cue, her phone vibrates and lights up with a text from an unfamiliar number: _Hello Bonnie. This is Nora. I hope you like your Christmas “present.” And I hope it’s okay that he gave me this number. Would you be my date to Caroline’s party tonight? I know we haven’t spoken much since Saturday (dealing with Mary Louise has been quite a handful) but I miss you dearly and would be delighted to spend the evening with you and your lovely friends. Let me know. —Nora xoxoxo_

Since their violent team-building exercise a few days ago, Bonnie’s been in that new relationship funk, the one that makes you doubt everything and so frightened at the possibility that things won’t work out that you end up ruining them anyway. She couldn’t get the image of Nora walking away from her, Mary Louise slung over her shoulder, out of her head. But all the misgivings begin to be eroded as she reads the text over and over, hugs her phone to her chest and smiles a giddy smile.

She texts back: _Hi Nora. I love my “present” and am so appreciative that you did that for me. I have missed you so much too and would love to be your date. Can I pick you up at 6:30?_

* * *

> Dear Elena,
> 
> I know you’re the last person who needs to hear about the incredibly strange process of hate evolving into love, but right now you’re the only one I want to tell. The girl I was talking about in my last letter, well... she is making me feel things that I’ve never felt before. Her name’s Nora. Yes, the same Nora I vilified in my first letter. The same one who has killed countless people, stole our town, and torched Matt’s graduating class. The same one I think I’m

Bonnie hesitates before writing the next few words, their dizzying implications spinning around in her head. But she knows if she’s even thinking about it then it’s probably true. She takes a deep breath and then brings her pen back to the page.

> falling in love with. Yeah, you read that right. It’s still not the most familiar thing in the world to me, but the way I feel when I think about her is what I’ve always imagined love to be like. I’m sorry to bring up the fact that I dated your little brother yet again, but I can’t get the thought out of my head that it’s different than it was with Jeremy. I felt warm and safe with him but there wasn’t that exhilarating volatility, no uncertainty or danger or sense of being exactly where I was supposed to be. It’s obviously way too soon to make any of this official, but you’re my best friend and these letters are going into a box that no one will open for decades, so I don’t see any need to filter myself. We went on this road trip together and I don’t know if I’ve ever had so much fun in my life. And she kissed me, out on the walkway, while the snow was falling and the moon was shining and ugh Elena it was just magical (no pun intended), I felt like a goddamn middle schooler with her first valentine. And after that I opened up to her in a way I never have with anyone else. I told her about Grams, my dad, dying, everything. And it felt amazing. It’s like I’ve been this jagged-edged half-soul my whole life and I’ve finally found the thing that makes me whole again. I’ve always rolled my eyes when people said shit like that but it’s genuinely how I feel. It’s terrifying but also so exciting.
> 
> So remember when you and Stefan first met and you kept insisting it wasn’t going to work out for some reason? That’s the mode I was in for the past few days. Pretty much no reasonable warning signs or red flags to go on, just me being my normal doubtful, insecure self. Probably would have ruined everything if she hadn’t asked me to be her date to Caroline’s Christmas dinner tonight, which sort of rewired my whole brain and now I’m just a lovesick mess. I wish you were here, Elena. I don’t know how I’m going to handle the holidays without you. Remember freshman year of high school, when my dad tried to take me on a work trip during Christmas and you asked your parents if I could stay with you because we’d never spent it apart? God, those tree-lighting ceremonies were so cheesy… but there’s nothing I wouldn’t give right now to be in that snowy parking lot with my two favorite people in the whole world. If I had known that our last Christmas together was actually our last I would have made it so much more memorable, but I couldn’t have, so there’s nothing to do but remember and regret. 

She pauses, poised to write another sentence but quickly decides against it. Writing about this is making her too sad and she doesn’t want to be in a sullen mood for the party. Bonnie unlocks her phone to check the time. 5:38 p.m. She should probably start getting ready if she wants to make it to Nora’s on time. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t actually know where Nora and her family have been living since they moved out of the Salvatore house—probably a good thing to figure out _before_ driving there. She shoots a quick text and then gets to work putting together an appropriately festive outfit. 

She often wishes she knew a spell to erase a particular article of clothing of hers from everyone’s mind so she can wear it more frequently, and now is no different as she looks longingly at the stunning red dress Freya had sent. _Probably too much sauce for a dinner party, anyway_. They’d agreed to meet Friday afternoon at Scull, but even with a concrete date and time for her rendezvous with a potentially dangerous, centuries-old witch she’s far more nervous about the night ahead of her. Her fingers run over the many pieces of tailored fabric in her armoire before settling on a short, sage-green lace-up dress. It’s one of her favorites, but she hasn’t worn it since the day they all said goodbye to Elena; until now, just looking at it was enough to bring the memories surging back and endless tears to her eyes. But as she touches it in this moment, it doesn’t resonate with Elena’s absence, but rather the warmth and love of her existence before Kai stole it from her, and Bonnie smiles instead of breaking down. No matter where her body is, their friend will be with them tonight.

* * *

It’s only 6:23 when Bonnie pulls up in front of a quaint two-story house in one of the nicer neighborhoods near campus. Getting ready didn’t take as long as she expected, and even time in the prison world passed faster than it did when she was just sitting and waiting until it wasn’t too early to leave to go somewhere, plus her stomach was full of butterflies—restless, hyperactive, and Olympic-level acrobat butterflies, apparently—from overthinking the night ahead, so she left ahead of schedule. Nora appears to have been just as nervous—despite the premature arrival the porch lights are already turning on and the door is opening—but Bonnie doesn’t make this conclusion herself because her brain just sort of halts when she sees her date illuminated in the soft yellow glow sprinkled with the fat fuzzy snowflakes that are lazily drifting down from the dark sky, her eyes sparkling even across the twenty or so feet of the yard, slender arms wrapping a thick shawl over her bare shoulders, whose graceful slopes hold the straps of a breathtaking ice-blue gown that seems to swirl around her body like a self-contained sleet-storm. On anyone else the beautiful garment would probably look like too much for a casual dinner party, but as with pretty much all the clothes Nora wears she makes it work to the point where dress codes don’t even apply. When she starts walking to the car after locking the door and spelling the lights off and sees her waiting driver staring at her and beams her unforgettable radiant smile, Bonnie knows she’s done for. The rational chunks of her brain have melted like drooping wax candles and congealed into a warm certainty in the bottom of her stomach, an uncharacteristic confidence that ignores the chorus of whispered anxieties normally ricocheting around her skull and moves her lips to Nora’s as soon as the other girl has gotten in the car. She feels the brunette’s surprise at first, but then they both sigh softly and relax into the intimate contact, the kiss deepening in that electric, exciting way that sends heat shooting to her cheeks and between her thighs. They’re both breathing heavily and raggedly when they pull away and look into each other’s eyes, miniature suns of streetlights and moonbeams dancing in the rich green.

“Hi,” Bonnie says, faint and barely audible.

“Hi,” Nora echoes. “What was that for?”

“To make up for my radio silence the last few days. I should have been checking in with you but I was all wrapped up in my head and…” She trails off and sighs, looking down at her lap. “There’s no excuse. For some reason I felt like we left things weird and that it was my fault.”

“It’s _not_ your fault that we had to do that.” Nora cups Bonnie’s face with her palm and gently pulls her face back upward. “And we didn’t even have each other’s phone number until today, how would you have gotten ahold of me?”

“That’s just it. Damon shouldn’t have had to give it to you. _I_ should have given it to you, because I like you. A lot. But I let fear and doubt control me.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“All I know is that you are extremely adept at finding fault with the things that make you such an amazing person. Until we were stuck in that tiny inn together you had every right to view me as a violent psychopath who endangered your life. And you _still_ have every right to view me that way. The fact that you’re here at all is simply a testament to your capacity for compassion, and understanding, and forgiveness.”

“I don’t see you that way.”

“I know.”

“I care about you, and I want to give this a shot.”

“I feel and want the same. We’ll both do our best to make it work.” Nora holds up a hand with the smallest digit outstretched. “Pinky swear on it?”

Bonnie laughs and hooks her own little finger around the offered one. “I had no idea the pinky swear was such a historically enduring tradition.”

“Indeed. Malcolm and I used to make them all the time.” Her smile drops and her eyes mist at the memory of her adopted brother. 

Bonnie feels the cold blade of guilt stab her gut. “I’m so sorry for the role I played in his death,” she says quietly.

“No, no, that’s not it.” Nora quickly wipes her face. “We were a threat, you did nothing wrong. I just miss him.”

They sit in silence for a minute, holding hands, Nora’s head on Bonnie’s shoulder, watching the snow fall through the slightly fogged windshield. 

“We should get going. I imagine punctuality is rather important to Caroline,” Nora says, breaking the tension.

“You have no idea,” Bonnie replies, giving her passenger a comforting pat on the leg before putting her car in drive and pulling onto the road.

* * *

The outdoor entry canopy of the Salvatore mansion is decked out with lights, wreaths, ribbons, and mistletoe, the sort of overstuffed, in-your-face holiday spirit that no one other than Caroline Forbes could harness. _God knows what the inside looks like_ , Bonnie thinks to herself as they roll to a stop in the driveway. Nora’s been filling her in on the events of the past few days, mostly with regard to Mary Louise, who had refused to answer any questions about what Julian had been up to or why he wanted the bell, instead sticking to her usual snapping vitriol and projection. Eventually they’d used a desiccation spell to put her down and sealed her in a coffin. “I kept waiting for her to make it more difficult, say something sweet like she used to, some fragment of the loving, caring Mary Lou I used to know to push through this horrible façade of fear and self-destruction,” Nora had said. “But she just got progressively more awful. She said the most hideous things to Valerie, I couldn’t believe it.”

As fucked up as the process sounded, Nora didn’t seem too upset over it, and indeed she had somehow managed to latch onto Damon’s Stone-bound soul at the same time. “But in that moment, when we grabbed him... I’ve never known of such pain. I don’t think he can recover from whatever he was put through in there right away. We need to keep an eye on him.” The mention of Malcolm earlier has been ringing in Bonnie’s ears ever since, and she marvels at Nora’s capacity to forgive them—a quality she had herself praised Bonnie for. It seems they not only have a great deal of new wisdom to gain from each other, but also a great deal of learning what they unwittingly already possess.

As they get out of Bonnie’s car she feels like she should be carrying some sort of potluck contribution or even just a wine bottle, but Stefan and Caroline had insisted they’d be providing all of the food and drink for the night—which Bonnie knew to translate not as _Oh don’t worry about it, we’re the hosts, we’ll take care of everything!_ but instead as _I don’t trust you shitheads to bring edible_ —apparently putting in an entire day of work in preparation. Only reunited for a few days and they’d already returned to full power-couple mode. Bonnie hoped Stefan wasn’t having any more trouble with Stone aftereffects, and wondered how Damon had been since that morning. She had made it clear that he could call her, but she’d known he wouldn’t, even if he should. At least now he was forced to be in her supervisory presence.

It’s just after seven when they step through the door and almost everyone is already there, sprawled on the obscenely large couches perpendicular to the fire with beers or glasses of eggnog or bourbon: Ric with a felt elf hat propped adorably askew, Valerie with her glowing auburn hair in an elaborate braid, Stefan already looking kind of tipsy, Beau smiling to himself and swirling his drink, Damon’s eyes disorientingly distant. Bonnie was expecting Caroline’s decision to invite the heretics along with Matt and Ric to result in a lot of strained interaction, if not outright hostility, but with the exception of the newly freed Damon the guests are talking amiably, most likely eased along by some strategically strong alcohol doses from their gracious hostess. Ric and Stefan are actually laughing at something Valerie is saying when Bonnie slips her coat off and hangs it on the rack; it feels good to see them not brooding for once. Her pleasant surprise is dampened a bit when she sees Damon’s distracted expression, but she shakes it off and makes it her personal goal to get him to smile by the end of the night.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” Stefan says, swinging his eggnog-holding arm in a wide greeting arc yet somehow not spilling any of it, his words slurring a bit in the distinctive way that never fails to make Bonnie grin.

“We are literally…”—she checks her phone—“seven minutes late.”

“‘Late’ is all I hear,” Ric chimes in, the cheap metal bell at the top of his hat clinking softly as he turns his head. “We’ve been at it for hours!”

“You got here exactly 45 minutes early because Caroline needed a specific shade of lipstick that she left at your flat, and even that was half an hour after she told you she needed it.” Valerie looks just as carefree as the boys, holding a surprisingly full tumbler of bourbon with one immaculate ivory hand and a candy cane in the other. “And you didn’t even bring the right one.”

“Stop, you’ll trigger his PTSD,” Stefan says, making as though to shield Ric’s ears, who in turn looks blankly into the distance in an imitation of the thousand-yard-stare. “Needless to say, my lovely girlfriend let him have it,” he informs the newcomers.

“And where is the queen now?” Bonnie asks. 

“On her throne,” comes Caroline’s distant voice from the direction of the kitchen. 

“She’s poisoning the food,” Stefan whispers conspiratorially.

“I sure as hell am now!” she responds. Caroline and vamp-hearing: a match made in heaven.

“I thought you were the one who cooked,” Nora says to Stefan as she plops down on the couch between Valerie and Beau.

“I am. Everything but my holiday hors d'oeuvres was up to snuff, but apparently ONE LETDOWN IS WORTHY OF COMPLETE BANISHMENT FROM MY OWN KITCHEN.” He raises his voice pointedly, humor dancing in his dark brown eyes.

“Bonnie, please give him a well-deserved slap for all those plates of little monstrosities he tried to pass off as authentic Italian appetizers.”

Offering up a plate covered with small slices of bread topped with tomatoes, onions, and olive oil to Nora and then to Bonnie as she too sits down, he shoots back, “It’s _bruschetta_ , you lunatic. Only the most ubiquitous antipasto ever invented.”

“Exactly! Make it for a corporate luncheon or the snacks table at the Founders’ Party, not the first real Christmas with our friends we’ve had in years.”

Stefan rolls his eyes at Bonnie and takes a bite of his own from the plate. She grins at the couple’s banter before turning to her left to look at Damon, who’s still staring off into space with a sickly glaze over his eyes, not even registering the fact that she’s next to him. But when pulls him into a tight hug he seems to snap out of whatever trance he’d been trapped in.

“Hey, Bon,” he says, a deep chuckle like the one he’d made when she first got out of the prison world reverberating through their embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” The rest of their friends have lapsed into their own conversations, and so even with so many people around them it feels like a desperately needed moment alone. “Are you okay?”  
Damon screws up his face. “I don’t know.”

“Any aftereffects yet?”

“No, but that hasn’t helped. I’m still so paranoid that I’m checking every corner, behind every door, waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He looks at her with his steely blue eyes, a level of worry and fear surging in them that she’s never seen before. “Promise me you’re not a twisted fragment of trauma torn from my subconscious and made into my eternal torturer?”

Despite the horrifying nature of the question, Bonnie smiles. “I promise, Damon. And I’ll prove it with something not even the darkest depths of your brain could come up with.” She reaches into the bag of gifts she’d brought and pulls out a round, haphazardly wrapped one with a long stem. “Merry Christmas.”

“The hell is this?”

“A present. You know, the things people give each other for Christmas.”

He looks at her skeptically before untying the knot of fabric at the top and peeling off the reusable material. Stefan is caught up in some car problem Ric’s telling him about but the familiar amber flicker catches his eye. Damon looks at the bottle of bourbon in amazement. “Is this...?”

“Yep. It was one of the things I brought back and I figured the Cure was a good enough gift for the time. I was saving it for a special occasion and this seems as good of one as any. Happier than the original thing we were saving it for, at least.”

He continues staring at the bottle, holding it at different angles in his hand as if he can’t believe it’s real. His brow is furrowed in the way it does when he’s feeling emotions he doesn’t want to feel and for a fleeting second Bonnie wonders if he might cry. He opens his mouth to say something, but before any sound comes out Caroline calls from the kitchen once more. “Time to eat!”

Everyone starts to get up. Bonnie lays a hand on Damon’s shoulder. “What do you say? Scratch that awful day when I decided to open this and start over?”

He shakes off his ambiguous expression and grins at her. “Sounds good. I won’t even make you listen to Pearl Jam this time.”

“Thank Christ,” she says as they both get up. 

“Oh come on, you didn’t hate ‘Yellow Ledbetter.’”

“Only because I originally thought it was called ‘Hello Bedwetter.’”

“Probably would have been a better title anyway.” 

They finally sit down at the long ornate dining table that was only set up for special occasions. Bonnie shares a glance with Nora, who’s across from them looking rather amused at their banter, and mouths an inaudible _thank you_ to her. Their eyes lock and Bonnie barely hears Caroline come in with the first round of courses.

“Now _this_ is how you pull off Christmas party appetizers,” she says with a playfully disdainful look at her boyfriend, who scowls and eats another one of his bruschetta pieces as she sets down the platters of latkes, spinach-artichoke dip, jalapeño poppers, and deviled eggs topped festively with diced red and green peppers. 

“You guys really cooked all this shit yourselves?” Ric asks incredulously, inspecting one of the colorful eggs before biting into it.

“Somehow,” Stefan answers. “If I have to make one more meal that I’m not allowed to eat, I’m going to explode.”

“Hold on, before we eat…” Damon surprises not just Bonnie, but everyone when he stands up from his chair as if to make a toast. “I have a lot of thanks to give. First, to our new friends, who so graciously worked day and night to help me escape from literal hell.” He gestures to the heretics, who are all sitting in a row on the other side of the table. “I am forever in your debt.” It feels strange to witness Damon being genuine; Bonnie’s wondering if this isn’t a setup for some elaborate joke. Caroline’s bewildered expression betrays similar thoughts. But he continues without showing any sign of mirth: “Next, to my brother and a girl who is most certainly out of his league, neither of whose compassion or even forgiveness I deserve, but am nonetheless granted in the form of this delicious food before us.” Damon points the bourbon bottle toward them in a salute before dramatically uncorking it. “And finally, to someone who _none_ of deserve, least of all me, for thanklessly saving our asses countless times, continuing to be one of the best people I have ever encountered on this earth despite unimaginable loss, and showing me that friendship is beautiful enough to live for.” As he speaks he walks around the table, pouring a finger or two of the caramel-colored liquid in each guest’s glass, even Caroline’s, whose owner gives him a dirty look. When he makes it back to his seat he pours some for himself and lifts the cup above his head. “I’d like to make a toast to an amazing woman, a mediocre crossword puzzle player, and my best friend. To Bonnie Bennett.”

“To Bonnie Bennett,” everyone echoes. With joyful tears flooding her eyes, Bonnie looks around the table to see them all raising their own glasses and staring at her, but when she sees the expression on Damon’s face—signature half-smirk, scrunched eyebrows, and a reverent mist in his eyes—she dissolves into all-out sobs.

“Merry Christmas, Bon.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute gift exchange... and some tantalizing hotness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my update schedule becoming more sporadic; I'm in the middle of the semester and my courses are kicking my ass. I have no plans to give up or even take a break on this story, though, so always expect that a new chapter is coming.
> 
>  **Soundtrack:**  
>  Sunset Rubdown - "Stadiums and Shrines III" from _Shut Up I Am Dreaming_  
>  Jessie Ware - "Adore You" from _What's Your Pleasure?_  
>  Have a Nice Life - "There Is No Food" from _Deathconsciousness_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist** (updated with songs from previous chapters): <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Now also on Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**December 20, 2013**

_“Can you hear them?”_

_“Who?”_

_“The chorus of agony. The split-second moment when the soul is ripped from the physical plane. The screams and cries of all the innocent people you’ve victimized.”_

_“I cannot, nor do I have any idea to what you refer. Alas, all I hear, or see for that matter, is a gorgeous woman whose judgment-filled mouth is going to get her in trouble.”_

_“You know nothing of judgment, Julian.”_

_“And how is it you know my name, Miss…?_

_“Who I am is of no importance. After this conversation you’ll have no recollection of me. But for the moment, you can call me Seline.”_

_“Seline... a name almost as exquisite as your beauty. I—”_

_“Your seductive wiles will have no effect on me, I’m afraid. My own, however…”_

_“What is it you need from me, mistress?”_

_“Ah, much better. You’re so much less infuriating when you’re agreeable. If only my plan didn’t require your death... no matter. After I leave this bar, you will neither remember me nor my name, but you will have a burning desire to acquire a certain important object. A bell.”_

_“A bell? And where can I find it?”_

_“If I knew, I wouldn’t be enlisting your help. And besides, I need a very specific person to actually do the finding. You will merely serve as... an incentive to drive her efforts.”_

_“What do I need to do?”_

_“You need to return to Mystic Falls, filch Damon Salvatore’s corpse, and threaten to lay waste to him and the town if his friends do not meet certain demands, one of which must be locating the bell. And when they inevitably refuse your offer and come to kill you, you will put up a believable struggle, but ultimately allow them to kill you. Do you understand?”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Good. Thank you, Julian. I will quite literally see you in Hell. I’m sorry to say that the unspeakable acts you’ve committed have sealed your horrible fate. May Cade have mercy on your soul.”_

* * *

**December 24, 2013**

Bonnie is tearing into her third helping of mashed potatoes and vegan gravy, listening to an amusingly intoxicated Alaric tell the story of Damon losing three successive liquor drinking competitions to a 4’11” Dutch woman over the summer, when a knock at the door causes everyone to look in the direction of the entryway.

“Who could that be?” Valerie asks.

“Oh, sorry, forgot to tell you guys… the food sucks so much I decided to order us all pizza. Hope that’s okay,” Bonnie says with a mischievous grin.

Stefan rolls his eyes as to his left Caroline rises from her chair to get the door. “Whatever, Miss Three-Plates.”

“By the way, did you make these?” She gestures to the mashed potatoes with her fork.

He nods. “A Salvatore family classic. What do you think?”

She takes another bite. “I think I could literally eat it until I collapsed.”

“Kind of disturbing, but I guess that’s better than it sucking.”

Bonnie’s about to fire back with another quip when she sees Caroline return to the dining room with an unexpected guest on her arm. “Matt??”

“Hey guys,” he says. He’s still wearing his drab grey Mystic Falls PD uniform, although the belt that usually holds his gun and taser is missing, which Bonnie supposes is a good sign. “Sorry I’m late, I was at work all day. Trying to get things ready for the citizens to return to their homes after the new year now that Julian’s vampire buddies have cleared out.” He looks around the table. “Thanks for everyone’s help with that, by the way.”

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat. We still have plenty left.” Caroline jerks her head toward the kitchen.

“Oh that’s okay, I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I should probably get going.”

“Give me a break,” she responds exasperatedly. “Do you even have anyone to spend Christmas with?”

Matt opens his mouth as if to answer but then closes it again.

“That’s what I thought.” Caroline gestures to the dining table with a grandiose sweeping motion. Bonnie always thinks she’d make a great real estate agent. “We’re your friends, Matt. And friends spend holidays together.”

He sighs, and for a moment, behind the stress-lined face and hardened eyes and semi-permanent scowl, Bonnie sees a flash of the bright, boyish Matt Donovan she used to know. He scans over Damon and the heretics skeptically.

“I know you’re still not our biggest fan,” Nora suddenly says, “and we don’t blame you. If you want to stay but don’t feel comfortable with our being here, we’ll leave, no questions asked.” To Bonnie’s surprise, Valerie and Beau nod along with her words, as if they had already discussed and agreed upon this. “This is your town. So whether you want us to leave the Salvatore house or Mystic Falls as a whole, we will respect your wishes.”

Matt looks at her without answering a second before absentmindedly scratching the back of his head and even smiling a bit. “You know, I once knew a guy who _really_ hated vampires. He hated them so much that it ate up his life—prevented him from being happy. He did horrible things—manipulation, torture, murder—in the name of protecting humans from them. And it got him killed. Because if one side stays fighting then the battle continues, no matter what the other’s mentality is. So if you’re calling a truce, then in the name of this town I’ll respect that.” He leans forward, his hands gripping the back of an empty chair, and looks at Bonnie with a warmth she hasn’t seen from him in a long time. “Some of my… wiser friends are much better at the forgiveness thing than I am. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever get the screams of my friends burning alive out of my head”—out of the corner of her eye, Bonnie sees Nora wince with guilt as if she had been stabbed—“let alone forgive the people who caused that pain. But I’ve lost too much to let hatred be the only thing in my heart.”

“Nice speech. Now how about we not let air be the only thing in your stomach?” Caroline says, tapping her foot in clear impatience.

“Sure, Care. Just give me a second to get a change of clothes from my car. I doubt anyone wants to hang out with a uniformed cop on Christmas Eve.”

“Seconded,” injects Damon, haphazardly waving his bourbon tumbler.

Caroline shoots him a scathing look as Matt rolls his eyes and walks back outside. “It is already a miracle he’s even here, let alone willing to stay,” she hisses at Damon’s smirking face. “Do not fuck this up.”

“Me? Fuck something up? Why, I never…”

Bonnie punches his shoulder. “Enough,” she says under her breath.

“Never enough,” he whispers back, though he ceases the snarky comments.

* * *

Once Matt has caught up on eating and Bonnie and the heretics make a magical assembly line a la Molly Weasley to clean all the dishes, the guests gather in the living room, following Caroline’s mandate of after-dinner drinks, even though she’s the only one who can’t drink and pretty much everyone is drunk already anyway. In the kitchen Bonnie and Nora had been acting like an adorable old married couple, splashing water on each other and bantering and laughing, a display upon which Valerie and Beau looked with amused but seemingly content smiles. At first Bonnie wasn’t sure how Nora’s siblings would feel about her, considering her bond with Mary Louise had remained reliably unbroken for the near-century-and-a-half they’d all been together, but Valerie especially seems to have developed a new appreciation for her, being much friendlier and asking her considerate questions. Beau’s feelings were harder to identify, but even based on his cryptic silent expressions Bonnie is optimistic. 

After they had finished in the kitchen they plopped down on the couch together as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but now the close contact and the warmth of Nora’s body and the way her hair is slung over one shoulder so a few of the strands cling to Bonnie’s dress is getting to her, and that plus the delicious burn of the alcohol in her veins is leading to some incredibly dirty thoughts. Beyond that, although the prospect and implications of her upcoming meeting with Freya is still stuck in the back of her mind, for the first time in she-can’t-even-remember-how-long there is no catastrophic threat lurking on the horizon, no villainous monster with a vendetta who could show up to kill her at any moment, no constant anticipation of pain or suffering or death. She would hesitate to say it for fear of letting the universe, which apparently holds a significant grudge against her, think she’s gotten too comfortable, but a beautiful little thought is flitting around her brain, soothing the stress-knotted neurons and trauma-craters with its healing touch: she’s happy.

As if she somehow heard the internal conversation roiling within the witch’s head, Nora turns to her with a look that seems to be a mix of many different emotions, but coupled with the reassuring hand squeeze and small smile she gives Bonnie reveals that Nora is similarly—cautiously—content. They’re trapped by each other’s eyes now, green reflecting green amidst the always impeccable mood-lighting of the Salvatore house, their surroundings slipping away even as

“Oi! Lovebirds!” The sharp sound of Stefan’s voice cuts through their mutual reverie. “We’re supposed to do gifts now.” He flicks the tiny bell that tops Ric’s elf hat, eliciting both a quiet clink sound and an annoyed look from the wearer.

Bonnie is disoriented for a second, but at the utterance of “gifts” she’s fully back in action, the excitement she always feels before giving things to people she cares about that were especially made or picked out for them. “Okay! Let me just go grab my bag.” 

She’s walking back in the direction of the dining room when behind her she hears Nora say, “I just have to use the loo and get my gifts, I left them in Bonnie’s car.” 

“We’re not exactly in a hurry,” Valerie responds, which Bonnie imagines earned her a disapproving glare from Caroline.

And then she’s in the hallway and out of earshot; for anyone who isn’t a vampire, the mansion has a strange way of insulating sound. Bonnie can hear enough muffled whispers to know that there are in fact people in the other room, but once she’s in the grandiose embrace of the dining room she might as well be alone, and it’s nice. She closes her eyes and breathes it—the warm, shrouding absence—in, trying to settle her overactive drunk-brain before she returns to the festivities. 

When she opens them, however, she immediately knows it was all for naught, for there just a foot or two away from her Nora stands, her scorching gaze reverberating with intoxicating energy the way it had that night at the motel, and as Bonnie starts to ask what’s wrong the motion of her mouth is blocked by one of the other girl’s fingers pressed against it. It rakes down tantalizingly, gently pulling Bonnie’s lips with it as the witch feels hot blood pound in her ears and chest and lower abdomen, the addictive crescendo of anticipation infinitely rising like a Shepard tone until Nora’s hands find her waist and their faces and bodies meld together in a seamless human yinyang, all desperate caresses and urgent pressure as if the world is collapsing around them. 

When Nora finally pulls away she has Bonnie’s swollen bottom lip grasped lightly in her teeth; the witch is almost as drunk on that tiny point of contact as she was the entire kiss. Nora’s eyes are dark and hooded and her cheeks flushed with the raw glow of desire as she huskily whispers, “I want to go home with you tonight.”

Bonnie has to look down to make sure she’s still a fully intact humanoid form rather than a puddle of steaming hot goo on the dark wood floor. Speech seems like too tall of an order for her overheated brain and yet she somehow manages to squeeze some words out: “I... want... you…”

She meant to say more but there’s beauty in succinctness, she supposes. Nora grins mischievously, the amber swarm of the glass chandelier’s reflection dancing in her eyes. “Soon, Bonnie Bennett.” She winds her hands around the shorter girl’s hips and brings their bodies together once more, this time in a gentler, more chaste kiss, which nonetheless does nothing to ameliorate Bonnie’s all-consuming lust frenzy. “But at the moment we have gifts to give. If they haven’t already started without us.”

* * *

“A sweater? Really?” Damon holds up a lump of tangled red wool that could either be an article of clothing or some unidentified deep-sea creature.

“She knitted it herself,” Stefan says, gesturing to Caroline, whose intense middle-aged-powermom-watching-her-kids-open-all-their-presents expression hasn’t wavered since the exchange started.

“That’s…”—Bonnie punches him in the side as hard as she can—“actually super cool, Care. Thanks.”

The blonde vampire looks surprised at the gracious response. “You’re welcome. Knitting has been really nice lately. Seems to soothe not just me but also these little fuckers.” She pats her rotund stomach affectionately. “And you’re all getting shitty wool clothes from me, if you were wondering.”

Bonnie fingers the soft yellow scarf she’d already opened, smiling to herself. She watches Stefan unwrap a ridiculously garish striped stocking cap, Ric a pair of gigantic fluffy mittens, Matt some sort of poncho/shawl thing, Beau a classic beanie, and Nora a set of fuzzy legwarmers.

Valerie is the last one to open hers, and she hugs the pair of lumpy winter gloves tightly to her chest. “Caroline, after all we’ve done to you, we weren’t even expecting to be invited. And you made us all gifts.” She looks around the room. “I just can’t believe how lovely all of you people are.”

“As long as you promise to never cast that vervain-skin spell on me again, we’re groovy,” Caroline responds.

“Noted.” Valerie slips on the gloves and flexes her fingers. “It must have taken you ages to make all of this stuff.”

“At the risk of cheapening the gesture... it really didn’t. I figured out how to use vamp-speed to power through rows. I’m basically a living, breathing knitting machine now.”

“Undead, breathing knitting machine,” Stefan corrects.

“Oh hush.”

“Alright,” Bonnie says a little louder than necessary, trying to avoid another playful-argument-turned-real-fight, “my turn now.” She picks up her bag and hands out the gifts she brought: a chrome hood ornament shaped like a bat for Stefan, a nicely bound annotated catalog of 6th-century Gaulish occult artifacts she’d found in a cute secondhand bookshop for Ric, earrings shaped like the Android crown emoji for Caroline, a thick paperback called _A History of Opera_ for Beau, a bottle of fancy cologne she’d bought in Belgium over the summer and infused with vervain for Matt, and a rare herb sampler complete with a booklet of magical tea recipes for Valerie. Bonnie had been pretty confident that everyone would like what she got for them except Nora, and as she comes close to completing her circle around the room and lifts the final gift from the bag her heart is pounding with anticipation. When she hands the small package to the brunette their fingers brush together in the slightest contact that still makes her whole body shiver. 

Nora’s expression is a mixture of awe and surprise once she plucks the knotted bow off the top of the present and unfolds the wrapping to reveal its contents: an antique Victorian music box complete with a slowly spinning miniature ballerina. She opens the lid and closes her eyes as she hears the twinkling metallic notes start to softly plink. “Bonnie, where did you get this?”

“This tiny boutique shop in France. To this day I don’t even know why I bought it. It just called to me. I really can’t explain it.” Bonnie rubs the back of her head nervously and looks at everyone else examining their own gifts. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I just thought it might remind you of home.”

The heretic meets her eyes and Bonnie is astonished to see tears brimming around the tiny lagoons of green. “You have no idea,” Nora says quietly, closing the box and opening it once more. “Val, do you remember the little one we had in the London house? It looked and sounded almost exactly like this!”

“Of course,” the redhead replies. “I think you win Christmas, Bonnie,” she continues, surveying the appreciative faces around the room. “All of these gifts are so thoughtful.”

“You all deserve them,” Bonnie responds, addressing her other friends as well. “I don’t know what I’d do without any of you.”

“This makes my gift to you look extra-bad,” Ric says, chuckling a bit as he holds up the catalog before reaching into one of his coat pockets. “At the risk of finally confirming my status as the worst role model ever…” He retrieves a small blue satin drawstring bag and tosses it to Bonnie. “Jo’s second cousin or uncle or something works at a farm in Washington and he used to send her samples of all the new strains they were working on. I told him what happened but he sent this to me anyway. She’d want you to have it.”

Bonnie opens the bag and raises her eyebrows when she sees its contents, immediately looking at Matt. He laughs. “Oh give me a break, Bon, I’m off duty. And even if I were I’m not gonna bust my friends for a little weed. Jeremy and I were the ones who got you into it in the first place, remember?”

“That was before you were a cop.”

“A cop in _Mystic Falls_. Where there’s a lot more to worry about than a harmless plant.” Matt shifts in his chair. “Don’t make me out to be some narc.”

“You are, by definition, a narc,” Ric chimes in.

“Maybe when I have my badge on. Otherwise, think of me as the same old Matt.”

“So you really won’t mind if, say, I light up right now,” Bonnie says with exaggerated coyness, starting to take her grinder and rolling tray out of her purse. 

“I’m probably not the person you should be asking,” Matt replies, glancing at Stefan, who’s zoning out staring at the crackling fire. When no one says anything he snaps out of it.

“All the fucked-up shit that’s happened in this house, and you’re worried about me being okay with people getting high in it? Hell, this place would probably be _safer_ if it were an actual trap house.” He looks at Bonnie with a grin. “Just don’t get ash on the rugs.”

“Noted.” She turns to her left. “Where’s Damon?”

“No idea.” 

Bonnie knows he’s probably fine, but she can’t shake a subtle flicker of dread that twinges somewhere deep down. “I’m gonna go make sure he’s okay.” She gets up and hands Matt the rolling supplies. “Here, prove you’re not a narc while I’m gone.”

He smirks. “Even if I am a narc, no one’s better at rolling.”

Damon isn’t in the front hall bathroom when she walks by, so on a hunch she carefully opens the heavy oak front door and steps outside. He’s standing with his back to her, staring straight ahead, muttering something. She gets closer and starts to make out the words: “Go away go away go away go away go away…”

“Damon?”

He whips around, the veins on his face seething and pulsing, his eyes narrowed to dark slits, his fangs bared. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re dead.”

“No, Damon, it’s me, Bonnie.” She’s trying to stay calm and level-headed despite the fear stabbing through her gut. “You’re in Mystic Falls with your friends. We got you out of the Stone, remember?”

“I watched you die! This is it, isn’t it? This has all been one gigantic loop and now I have to start all over. Why are you doing this to me, Mom?”

“Damon, I’m not your mom. You’re hallucinating. Please come back inside.” She slowly inches backward toward the door, reaching behind her with her hands to feel for the doorknob. “You’re safe.”

“STOP SAYING THAT! I am NOT a monster!”

“That’s not what I—”

He surges to her at dizzying speed, curled hands reaching for her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saddies n baddies, the TVD way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU'RE GONNA READ A NOTE, READ THIS ONE:
> 
> I originally planned on ending this chapter in a more... climactic way, if you will. But then I thought about it; there hasn't really been any smut in this story so far, only hints at it, and even though it's not something I feel like I'm amazing at I somewhat enjoy writing it, but I'd still feel weird including it if no one even wants it. So I know I've asked for input before but now I really need it. Please let me know if smut is something you think this story needs (I won't judge you... I mean, I'm the one offering the option in the first place), otherwise I will assume I should steer clear and keep it coy like the show.
> 
>  **Chapter 14 Soundtrack:**  
>  Pumice – "Both Beasts" from _Pebbles_  
>  Flanafi – "Necessary Beams" from _Flanafi_  
>  Then Thickens – "My Amsterdam" from _Colic_
> 
>  **Link to Spotify playlist:** <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Now also on Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**August 27, 2013**

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"Have you been to Mystic Falls? There is a heretic clipping his gnarly toenails in my master bath right now. I have nowhere else to go."_

_"So, I guess it's a good thing I didn't get hit by a truck…"_

_"Come on, Bonnie! It was three seconds."_

_"Do you know how long three seconds are in a life-or-death situation?"_

_"The first second, I thought of how amazing it would feel to have Elena in my arms again. By second number two, I was kissing her…"_

_"And by the third, I remember you're my best friend, and that if anything ever happened to you, I would lose my mind. So, yes, Bonnie, I do know how long three seconds are."_

_" ...I was just checking."_

_"And I will wait for her, and you're gonna help me. You're stuck with me, too."_

_"The heretics are out because of me."_

_"No, Bonnie, the heretics are out because my mother's a lunatic and everyone's too scared to stop her."_

_"I'm not. I want to fight. I want our town back."_

_"You know, I always knew you had badass potential. But now... I mean, I got chills."_

_"Patronize me some more and I'll add you to my already lengthy hit list."_

_"No way; I mean it. Those musty fucks better watch out. And me too, I guess."_

_"Yeah. Stay in line. Remember when I first really got my powers, I was like 17 but I stared you the fuck down and told you that if any more innocent blood was spilled, I would take you down? And then Caroline killed that guy at the carnival and I would've burned you alive if Elena hadn't stopped me? Was I not a full-on badass then?"_

_"The difference is now you're a badass on my side."_

_"Don't get cocky. You hesitate before saving my life again, I might get crazy with the fireballs."_

_"You can throw fireballs?"_

_"If you're not a dickhead, you won't have to find out."_

_"You and I both know that's kind of inevitable."_

_"Fireballs it is then."_

_"Ooh, speaking of which: what do you say we go kick some heretic ass?"_

_"I'm game."_

_"Let's do it."_

_"Hey, Damon."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Thank you."_

_"You're welcome."_

* * *

**December 24, 2013**

_Oh, no, not yet. I have much bigger plans for you._

She wakes to the sight of blue eyes filled with tears.

"No, no, I'm so sorry I'm so I didn't know I didn't mean to I'm sorry I'm—"

"Damon?"

"What? Wha— Bonnie!?"

"What happened?"

"I—" He looks at his hands. They're covered in blood. "I just—"

"Was I dead?"

"I don't know, I— I thought it was the Stone and I saw my mom, but, but then it was you and you wouldn't wake up and I had your heart in my—"

"You ripped my heart out?"

"Well it—" He looks at his hands again. They're clean. He scans over the snow-dusted ground. "I thought—"

"It's the Stone, Damon. It's fucking with you still. But you're here. It's okay." Despite the reassuring confidence of her words, Bonnie slowly brings a hand to her chest, as if to tangibly convince herself that her heart remains safely behind her ribcage. Sure enough, she feels the incessant little beat. But it doesn't get rid of the _weird_ sensation coursing through her, one of those unutterable, liminal emotions only evoked by dreams, some paradoxical surge of both dread and relief.

For the first time she notices where she is: half-sitting, half-prostrate, back uncomfortably pressed against the sharp edges of the stone steps up to the porch. For a second her sense of space just didn't seem to be working, because now she notices that Damon is standing over her, not in front of her, so she really did fall. Was it a hallucination? The blood is gone from Damon's hands. Was it ever actually there?

He looks as bewildered as her, and opens his mouth to say something before being interrupted by the front door opening.

"Are you lot okay out here? What— Bonnie!" It's Nora, and once she blurs from the foyer to Bonnie's side and wraps her arms around her the witch immediately feels better. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm... not really sure." Bonnie reaches down to brace her hands against the ground and pull herself into a full sitting position, barely noticing the damp cold of the fine layer of snow, but she dusts it off on her leggings anyway. When she looks up Damon is nowhere to be seen. "Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"Damon. The Stone was fucking with him and he thought I was his mom and that he needed to 'restart the loop' or something. I don't know, he wasn't really making any sense. But we have to find him." She stands up, the motion a bit more shaky than she'd like. "God knows what he'll do."

"Well, hopefully everyone's all cozied up inside for Christmas Eve," Nora suggests. "And he can't have gotten far. Let's go get the others."

* * *

They had Valerie do a locator spell at the house just to be sure, but Bonnie already had a pretty good idea of where they'd find Damon, and sure enough when the Salvatore family crypt comes into view, there he is, standing unnaturally still in front of Lily's grave with his back to Bonnie once again—except this time she has backup.

"What exactly did he say? Earlier, when you found him outside?" Stefan asks her, his booze-loosened carefree attitude hardened back into moody grimness.

"He thought I was your mom. Nothing I said seemed to actually get through to him, it was like he was having a completely different conversation with someone else. He kept saying he wasn't a monster."

They're whispering so as not to alert the already volatile Damon of their presence. In the dreamlike nighttime snowscape of the forest, gnarled roots and trunks and shrubs dusted with soft white coats that reflect the cold, haunting rays of the sickly half-moon, all the guests except Ric and Caroline—Stefan and Bonnie had insisted they stay at the house—are fanned out in a makeshift circle in an attempt to prevent him from escaping once more.

"He wouldn't talk to me about what happened in the Stone. I guess now I know why," Stefan says with a sigh. "Looks like everyone is in position. I'm going to go talk to him. Can I trust you to have my back?"

"Always, Stefan."

He nods and begins cautiously walking toward his brother, who doesn't turn around or give any other sort of indicator of hearing the approach despite Stefan not making any effort to stifle his footfalls. Bonnie creeps closer to try to hear their conversation, but she still can't quite make it out. She quickly mutters an amplification spell and startles herself with the sudden clarity of the voices:

"—doing here, Stefan?"

"I came to talk to my brother."

"How do I know this isn't hell? I can't even tell the fucking difference anymore."

"Neither could I at first. But I didn't have anyone to talk to about it—anyone who would understand, anyway. Now I do, and so do you. You can tell me anything."

"That's the thing, Stefan, I can't. Because if I do then it all changes."

"What all changes?"

"Everything. All that I thought I was, thought I knew, thought I could be. For God knows how many years I was a monster, and then I fell in love with Elena, and she taught me how much happier I could be if I was _good_. And I believed it. Believed I could be good, change, grow."

"You can, Damon."

"No. The Stone is right. I'm a killer. The villain. I force anyone who makes the mistake of getting close to me to abandon their morals and bend over backward to defend my actions. And it's the worst with you, brother. You are the better man. I'm just holding you back."

"No, I'm not, and no, you're not. Do you know what the Stone told me? That I had to let you go. For me to be pulled out I had to let you die. I didn't want to, but somehow I knew it was what needed to happen. But do you know why I'm still here, not abandoning you, but helping you? Because you're my _brother_ , and the Stone is just some stupid fucking rock. It was created by people who hated vampires for the purpose of killing and torturing them. Do you really think it cares about our best interests? It doesn't. It wants us to be _miserable_. So if it wants us to be miserable, and it's telling us that we need to let each other go, what does that tell us?"

"Enlighten me, professor."

"It means we need to stick together, Damon. No matter what."

He doesn't respond, and it's silent for a while, the delicate impacts of the drifting snowflakes boosted from silence to a low, soothing crackle in Bonnie's ears by her spell.

"It's not too late for you to make amends, you know." Stefan again. He's talking about Lily. "Just because she's dead doesn't mean she can't forgive you. Or that you can't forgive her."

"I don't want that, Stefan. I don't forgive her, and I never will."

Stefan's voice is laced with frustration. "Do you know how many friends you'd have if everyone on earth was as stuck in their grudges as you? _None_. You wouldn't even have me. You have done terrible things to everyone who loves you, but we love you just the same, because we can forgive. And so can you."

"All I'm hearing is that my friends are a bunch of idiots who don't know how to cut ties."

"So that's what Elena is to you? And Bonnie? And me? Idiots? We're not stupid, Damon. We just care. Despite everything you do to try to prove yourself worthy of the complete opposite."

"What is it they say, brother? When someone shows you they are, believe them the first time." Bonnie's heart sinks as she hears him start to walk away.

"Where the hell are you going?" Stefan calls after him.

"I need to see Elena."

"I can't let you do that. Your mind isn't stable right now. You might hurt her."

"It's Christmas, Stefan. I want to see my girlfriend. Even if she's catatonic. You just try and stop me. Or any of your forest-gnome minions. I'll kill you all."

"Fine. Go. Leave the only people in the world who enjoy your company because you're too much of a self-absorbed asshole to actually respect us."

"Sounds like you finally understand me, Stef. Merry Christmas!"

Bonnie can't take it anymore. She runs to the clearing in the trees and stumbles a bit as the ground changes from knotted roots and sticks to smooth snow. "Damon! Come on. Don't go. Please. We just got you back."

"And I just almost killed you, Bonnie! Forget about me. All of you. For your own good." And with a familiar hiss of fast-rushing air, he's gone.

Bonnie starts after him, but Stefan grabs her arm. "Let him go. We're not gonna get through to him tonight."

"But he's going after Elena!"

"I'll call Tyler and warn him. But we can't risk him lashing out. He'll be back."

"Yeah, after doing God knows what."

"What else is new," Stefan deadpans with a weary sigh.

"What the hell? You just let him go?" Matt asks indignantly, emerging from the trees in front of them. The others slowly become visible as well, looking just as confused.

"Him being here wasn't doing any good. Tyler will keep Elena's body, and hopefully himself, safe. Damon will realize he won't find her, have an emotional crisis, and then he'll adapt. When he sent her away it didn't really mean anything. This time it will, because he feels like he needs her but can't see her."

"We're talking about the same Damon Salvatore here, right? You're brother, the one who tends to murder innocent people when he doesn't get his way?"

"That's not who he is anymore, Matt."

"Really? Because the way I see it, he hasn't changed at all. Still the same bloodthirsty killer with no respect or regard for human life."

"I'll make sure no one else dies. Anything that happens is on me."

"You're damn right." Matt steps closer even closer to Stefan than he already was, their noses almost touching as they glare at each other.

"Matt…" Bonnie soothes gently, but he either doesn't hear her or pretends not to.

"I'm the only one this town has left to protect it. If protecting it means you leaving town, then so be it."

"Is that a threat?"

"It doesn't have to be." With these words he tears his stare away from Stefan and storms off back toward the mansion.

"Matt, hey, wait up," Bonnie says, half-jogging after him, trying not to let the dam holding back a whole river of tears break. "Just—"

"I don't want to hear it, Bonnie!" he almost yells, and she can see that his own cold blue irises glisten with moisture. "They're not your friends. You're just fooling yourself."

Now she's angry. "That's not true. You can disagree with my choices, and theirs, but you don't get to insult me."

"Whatever." He turns around again. "Merry fucking Christmas."

She stands still and watches him walk away for a moment, then turns back to Stefan and the others. "Well, this night almost went well."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"No. Are you?"

"No."

"Gotta love the Christmas spirit." The dam breaks and she feels drops of liquid gather below her eyes. "What are we gonna do, Stefan?"

"You're not going to do anything. This is my problem now."

"And who's going to take care of you? Yours isn't the most stable mind right now either."

"I'll be okay." He turns to Nora, whose large concerned eyes are trained on Bonnie. "Can you drive her home?"

"Of course." The heretic speeds over. Bonnie almost says something about not being a child, but she doesn't, because now Nora is next to her and everything just feels… better. "Can I carry you back?" the tall brunette asks.

"I can walk."

"I know." Despite the morose nature of the situation, the tiniest tinge of playfulness dances in Nora's expression, and even this subtle semblance is enough to improve Bonnie's mood.

"I suppose it wouldn't be the _most_ humiliating thing in the world…"

"Au contraire, cherie," Nora replies as she sweeps her off her feet into a cradle-carry. "You look positively ridiculous."

Bonnie giggles as she's whisked through the dark forest.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

Bonnie glances skeptically at her beautiful passenger. "Very funny."

"I suppose it would be prudent to learn one of these days."

"In the best interest of everyone: take it slow."

"I'll be too terrified for it to go any more quickly."

They're about ten minutes away from Whitmore, one of only two contingents that had left the Salvatore house after the Damon debacle, everyone except them and Ric electing to stay in, Stefan and Caroline in preparation for their perfect Christmas morning breakfast, Valerie and Beau to move Mary Louise's coffin to a safe location. And who knew where Matt was.

But Nora's here, next to her. Bonnie smiles. "Can I ask you something?" her voice is genuinely inquisitive, but there's a note of coyness that Nora is just starting to be able to pick up on.

"Always."

"Why didn't you just carpool to the Salvatore house with Beau and Valerie? Apparently he's a veritable chauffeur now, and honestly probably a better driver than me at this point, so why'd you wait for me?"

"You're really asking this?"

Bonnie grins, not turning away from the road. "Aren't I?"

"You just want to hear me say something you already know."

"Is that such an ask?"

"I suppose not," Nora says, her words saturated with the contagious smile pulling both of their mouths upward. "I waited for you because I wanted you to pick me up like a proper date. Because I like you and I wanted to swoon and oh God I did."

"Mmmm." Bonnie's still looking straight ahead, but she grabs Nora's hand and squeezes it. "That's better."

"Also, you're like, really hot when you drive. The way you hold the wheel with one arm and sort of prop your elbow on the windowsill... lord."

"Oh?" The witch raises her eyebrows and moves her fingers from where they're interlaced with Nora's up the other girl's arm to her shoulder and across her collarbone, her eyes diligently glued to the road all the while. "And what about what I do with the other arm?"

"That's just... bonus..." Nora whispers breathily with the contented exhale of someone closing their eyes in appreciation.

Bonnie's softly drawing circles on her stomach now, savoring the feeling of the beautiful winter dress against her cracked, dry knuckles. "Are you sure you want to, uh, crash at my dorm with me on Christmas Eve?"

"Are you implying I have something better to do?"

"Ouch."

"That's a compliment, you lunatic. As in, there is literally no better way I could spend my night."

"Oh." She squeezes Nora's thigh. "I suppose that's... sufficiently cute."

"That"—Nora grabs her hand with both of her own and kisses each knuckle in rapid succession—"is what will be on my gravestone."

"Not bad as far as inscriptions go, I suppose. Definitely seen worse." They've just reached the edge of campus, and before long Bonnie turns down the street her dorm building is on. The best part of staying over break is that all the meters are deactivated, so instead of paying for the garage or making the trek from a spot in one of the neighborhoods she can just park right outside the door.

"So that was a rather enjoyable first date, save the final moments," Nora says as they trudge through the crunchy white carpet on the sidewalk and steps up to the entryway. "Your friends are a blast when there's not some drama going on."

"Unfortunately, there almost always is." Bonnie unlocks the outer door and stomps her boots on the mat. "But fortunately, they're usually a blast even then."

"I don't doubt it."

"I'm glad you liked them." She starts to climb the set of wooden stairs that lead to the hallway in which her room is the first on the left but doesn't hear any footsteps following her. She turns to see Nora still standing in the foyer. "What's up?"

"Are _you_ sure you want _me_ to crash at your dorm on Christmas Eve?" She says the word "crash" like a parent trying to be hip and using a new slang word their kid taught them.

Bonnie laughs. "I drove you here, didn't I?"

"Well yes, but just with Damon and Matt and everything if you'd rather be alone that's—"

"Nora." Bonnie jogs back down the steps and gets close to her. "I'm not someone who doesn't know how to be alone, but if I'm being honest that's the last thing I want right now." She grabs both of Nora's dangling hands and swings the akimbo arms back and forth playfully. "And the first thing I want is you here with me."

"Alright, but don't say I didn't give you an out," Nora replies, bringing their hands back between their waists and tilting her head down for a quick kiss. "Didn't you say that you always spent Christmas morning with your family though?"

"That was when I still had family to spend it with." Now they both walk to the door of Bonnie's room together. "But now my dad and my Grams are gone and Abby is in Europe with Jamie, so if it weren't for you I'd probably be alone. Ric invited me to lunch at this place tomorrow though." Her usual routine of wrestling with the door's fickle lock is interrupted by a single swipe of Nora's hand as she magically pulls it open. "How is it I always forget I can do that?"

"Because you, Bonnie Bennett, are the sort of person who can't resist a challenge." The heretic prances into the dark room and ignites every lamp at once with exaggerated showman's bravado before gesturing to herself. "And look at how much excellent work you've done."

"Not one of my most visually appealing projects," Bonnie counters.

"Mean." Nora bounces over to where Bonnie's putting away her stuff and wraps her arms around her waist from behind, chin resting on the witch's now half-bare shoulder. The unexpected embrace nearly makes her knees buckle in overwhelming desire. The way her backside perfectly tucks into Nora's front drives her _nuts_. "What do you say we finally try out that new, uh, stuff Ric gave you? I could really use it right now."

"I thought you'd never ask." She sits down at her desk and starts grinding some up. "I wish you could have seen high Matt. He's like a totally different person, like a rosy-cheeked little kid. Or at least he used to be." Bonnie sighs. "I was so close to getting him back."

"You'll have another chance," Nora assures. "He's young and confused and doesn't have a lot of people to talk to. But he won't be angry forever."

"I hope not." She rolls the minced herb into a strip of translucent paper, licks, smooths, tucks. "It's hard to believe that just over four years ago he and I were lifeguards at the public pool. I didn't know about vampires or ghosts or Phoenix Stones or immortals, witches were just a wacky drunken conversation topic for my Grams, and I wasn't worried about anything except sunburns and boys and applying to colleges."

"Well, at least all three of those problems seem to have been solved," Nora jokes, gesturing in turn to the snow drifting outside the window, herself, and the dorm.

Bonnie laughs. "I guess you're right. There are always new things to worry about, I suppose."

"Indeed. For example, the freakish speed at which you're able to roll those things. I have superspeed for God's sake and I still can't seem to figure it out at even a regular pace."

"I'm convinced some people are just born with it, and some aren't." Bonnie bathes one end of the joint in the flame of the candle she just lit before passing it to Nora. "Maybe getting baked is in my Bennett blood."

"Just one more thing that makes your family the most badass in the world."

"Sometimes I wonder. Like, I don't plan on having kids. Will the Bennett line end with me? Are there others out there? I met this woman Lucy once, no idea where she is… do I have some obligation to keep the name going?"

"No, of course not." Nora passes the joint back to her. "Who cares?"

"Yeah, to be honest I can't picture my Grams telling me I have to have a baby. Not her style."

"She seems like an amazing woman."

"She was," Bonnie says, without too much sadness; it's been so long her grief has almost fully settled into rich, fond memory.

"What was the last thing she got you for Christmas?"

"Oh, jeez. That would've been… 2008. Fuck. Five years ago." She racks her brain. "Oh, that's right, that was when she first started telling me I was a witch. She got me some old book of our family history. I remember thinking it was so boring… I didn't even pick it up again until the next school year when everything started happening." Bonnie laughs dryly, takes another hit. "I could be such a bitch back then."

"Oh my, and what progress," Nora says wickedly.

"Hey, you are getting too good at this cute fake insult thing. I'm starting to almost believe you sometimes."

"Now you know how it feels."

"But see, I'm strict. I don't let things slide. I'm going to have to make an example out of you."

"And what does that entail?" They're doing their smoldering stare forcefield thing again. Nora rasps softly like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

Bonnie tosses the barely-smoked joint into the ashtray and slinks toward where Nora is sitting on the corner of her bed. "Well I think you've gotten too familiar with... being on top of things, you know?"

"Yes," she barely croaks out as Bonnie slowly pushes her back onto the bed, their eyes never breaking contact.

"Why don't we fix that?" the witch whispers, surprising even herself with this sultry confidence as she presses her lips onto Nora's, her arms supporting her weight as they pin the other girl's hands out and above her head. There's more depth and urgency to this kiss than any before, even Nora's surprise attack earlier that evening, and their hands soon escape their grasp on each other and roam over hips and faces and thighs and bodies.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HOT AND HEAVY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DISCLAIMER (please read):**
> 
> Well, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for (or at least three of you, hah). But first, something I've been meaning to do this for a while but is absolutely necessary with regard to this chapter, as well as the recognition of International Women's Day yesterday:  
>   
> The main characters in this story are obviously Queer women. I myself, however, do not share either of these identities; I am a straight (cis) man. Both women and LGBTQIA+ people have been oppressed by a long history of, among countless other things, their stories being told for them. This of course still happens today, committed even by production teams and authors and artists who claim to be "woke"—and use wokeness as a manipulative marketing tool rather than recognizing and assimilating what it actually is: common decency. It is important to recognize and analyze these violations of narrative ownership when they occur.  
>   
> I fully believe in and respect narrative ownership. Personally, I feel that me writing a story from the close first-person perspective of a marginalized character, or even from third-person to tell a story about their identity—rather than the ways my own identity affects and oppresses them—is unethical. In terms of this definition, _She's Thinking of Her All the While_ resides in more of a gray area than I would normally be comfortable with; within it I frequently and frankly discuss intimate elements of Queer female romance and sexuality with which I clearly do not—and will not, ever—have firsthand experience. I have known and loved many people in my own life that have allowed me to develop the understanding I have now, but that is far from a replacement for actually living it, and thus my personal privilege cannot be overlooked.  
>   
> Although my desire to write a story for these characters emerges purely from my love for them (and dissatisfaction with how reductively CW shows often portray Queer relationships, especially ones between women), not a wish to appropriate or commandeer or steal, I nonetheless knew I couldn't feel 100% okay with my authorial role unless I made it explicit to all of you. If you've read this far, I hope you can see my profound appreciation for both these characters and their identities in what I write and the way I write it. But I understand that everyone has different opinions, and I want to hear yours. If you feel as though anything I include in this story is an overstep—or you believe me writing this at all is wrong—please tell me. And if you feel the complete opposite way, feel free to tell me that, too. I always want, and need, to learn and grow to be a better, more respectful person and writer. Thank you.
> 
>  **Chapter 15 Soundtrack:**  
>  King Princess – "Pussy Is God"  
> Jean Deaux – "Wikipedia"  
> Pom Poko – "Honey" from Birthday  
> Youth Lagoon – "Highway Patrol Stun Gun" from Savage Hills Ballroom  
> (spared you the Christmas songs)  
>  **Spotify playlist:** <https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EICNzLmCJELZPA9NXANI2>  
> **Apple Music:** <https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/shes-thinking-of-her-all-the-while/pl.u-mJy88M4sNayJRKP>  
> 

**November 8, 2013**

"I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"No. I mean, not yet. But I have been awaiting your acquaintance."

"You're looking at me like you already know me."

"I'm sorry. It's rather strange, really—I _feel_ that way too. As if your face is one I've seen a thousand times."

"So are you going to tell me your name or keep trying to convince me you're a serial killer?"

"My apologies. My name is Nora Hildegard. I'm one of the hosts tonight."

"Ah. Well that explains why you knew who I was. But I didn't even want to come to this stupid ritzy party in the first place, let alone be sweet-talked by murderous psychopaths who are holding my town hostage."

"I see."

"Do me a favor and tell your mother or guardian angel or whatever the hell she is to you that she can take her 'fresh start' and shove it. And for the rest of you: step out of line and I'll take you down. Got it?"

"There's no need for all this hostility, Bonnie—"

"No. Do not _ever_ say my name. You don't deserve pleasantries, especially not with me. If I hear it again I'll rip your fucking tongue out."

* * *

**December 25, 2013**

" _Bonnie…_ "

The clock ticks over to midnight at the exact same moment as Bonnie kisses Nora's body for the first time, her lower abdomen to be exact, the soft yet firm stretch of smooth skin and muscle a bit cold against Bonnie's warm lips even through the fabric of the dress. She loves the way Nora is breathing deeper and deeper, each exhale becoming progressively shakier, as her kisses travel up from below the brunette's belly button to her sternum and between her breasts and the beckoning hollow of her neck. Their thighs are interlocked and they're already grinding a bit against each other, but when Bonnie's pecks reach bare skin Nora hisses in pleasure and presses her body flush against the one above it, their pounding pools of heat surging in unison. She moans again: " _Bonnie…_ "

"I love it when you say my name," Bonnie says in between kisses up Nora's jaw to her parted lips.

She doesn't quite make it to her destination before Nora starts to respond, "Remember that time, at the party when you—"

Bonnie winces at the memory. "Yes." Not exactly easy to forget their first meet-cute when she'd threatened to mutilate her. "Not one of my finer moments. I had a lot of unresolved anger."

"I deserved it. And to be honest, it was incredibly hot. I mean, I was with Mary Louise at the time, but we'd been fighting and here was this beautiful witch telling me where I could shove it with the most venomous voice I've ever heard… how could I not be smitten?"

"You're a _weirdo_." Bonnie actually kisses her this time, briefly, teasingly.

"And you aren't?"

"I didn't say that."

"Good. I happen to be quite fond of weirdos." Nora reaches up and pulls Bonnie's head down into a deeper kiss, her hands wandering down the witch's back and playing with the hem of her short dress before flipping them over in a literal flash and taking control. Bonnie thought it would be sexy to initiate things, but she's still a little nervous and wary of her inexperience so she's glad she can follow Nora's lead—plus she's never been vamphandled before and it is incredibly hot. She feels like she's melting and freezing at the same time beneath Nora's body, submerged in Nora's hair, under Nora's whirlwind of kisses. The dextrous, ever-moving touches are steadily migrating southward again, and this time when Nora's long fingers grasp the bottom of Bonnie's dress they gently hint at a movement upwards, a wordless question made not so wordless when the brunette asks, "Can I take this off?"

Bonnie, reveling in her current position and predicament—on her back in her cozy bed, at the intimate mercy of a gorgeous woman—grins playfully. "You first," she says.

Nora looks down at her dress. "This is kind of a one-and-done deal—once it's off it's off." She laughs. "Are you sure?"

It's hilarious to Bonnie the way they can converse so naturally even when they're practically fused together at the lust-charged hips, but at this moment she doesn't laugh because a much more serious thought spreads through her head and slides out of her mouth: "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." And it's not a line. Impossible as it is, she means it.

Nora sits up from Bonnie's lap a bit to grab the bottom of her gown and shimmy it upwards. Bonnie watches in a daze as the gossamer layers drift up over toned legs whose shapeliness is flattered even further by the way their owner has them folded under her, the soft sweep of hips accented with high-waisted blue satin panties, the vertical line of muscle definition that runs from her chest to the intoxicating diving curve just above the elastic of her underwear. Once the gorgeous garment is completely off, exposing the impeccable contours of Nora's neck and collarbone and shoulders, breathtaking brushstrokes converging across into slender arms and down into the perfect swell of her breasts, the whispers of doubt and insecurity that had been painfully tickling Bonnie's brain quiet to velvety, assured silence as her eyes drink in the sight before her.

Nora catches her eye once she carefully sets the dress aside and blushes deeply, but she doesn't raise her arms to cover herself, something Bonnie used to do all the time when she felt exposed. "Well, say something! Don't just stare at me."

"I don't think my brain is really working properly at the moment." Bonnie reaches over and tucks a lock of chocolate brown hair behind Nora's ear before leaning in for a sensuous kiss, smoothly lifting her leg over Nora's thighs so she's sitting on the taller girl's lap. Bonnie has never really thought of herself as being good at making out, let alone sex—everything always seemed just the slightest bit off, knocking knees or foreheads together and other awkward interactions being a given for her at this point, but with Nora it's not like that. They move not as one, but as two bonded by a certain kind of oneness, like choreographed dancers sketching fleeting jigsaw-fittings with their limbs in the air, a pair of polarized magnets moving in perfect tandem.

When the witch slowly pulls away, savoring the way their lips separate—which is almost as good as them meeting in the first place—as she basks in Nora's gaze and Nora in hers. These are the moments where there is nothing to say or do other than look and touch and wonder at the beauty before oneself, the need for words replaced by a warm, embracing, _intoxicating_ haze of pheromones and anticipation.

"You are"—she kisses Nora's neck and shoulders—"the sexiest"—her lips trace a dotted line down Nora's chest and abdomen—"person"—she scoots back so she can lean down and devote her mouth's attention to the breathtaking thighs and calves—"I have ever seen." She wants to map every inch of Nora's skin, chart its full exterior with kisses into a grid of love-pressed points like a sculptor's wireframe.

A labored breath and a faintly uttered "Your turn" is all Nora can muster in response, pulling at the sides of Bonnie's dress not in that playful _Let's get naked_ way but in the much rarer, more desperate _I need to be as close as possible to you and clothes are just obstacles to that goal_ way. "I want to see you. All of you," the heretic confesses at a volume hardly above a whisper.

Bonnie smiles and surprises herself when she feels no stabs—or even pinpricks—of doubt or insecurity as she pulls her dress off; she is excited to show Nora her body, to finally be _seen_. She'd had a feeling things might progress further tonight when she was getting ready earlier, so naturally she pulled out all the stops for her undergarments: her favorite night-black lace set, which she'd always thought made everything she loved about her body—hair, eyes, skin, legs—stand out even more... at least based on her own impressions during sexy self-love mirror time.

But from the way Nora is looking at her, _consuming_ her with her raking stare, it seems like she was on the right track.

"Are _you_ going to say something?" Bonnie asks with a chuckle.

"I think the entirety of the English language is woefully insufficient to accommodate the wonder that is you, Bonnie Bennett." Before the compliment's recipient has a chance to respond they're kissing again, the desperate urgency nearly boiling over as the boundaries between their bodies shift and blur and disappear, waves of delicious heat exchanged between clasped hands, pressed-together torsos, tangled legs and feet.

And then the hands are roaming, exploring, wanting, Bonnie's down the concave sides of Nora's torso to the hem of her underwear, Nora's over Bonnie's forearms and biceps and the addicting stretch of skin on her upper chest to the defined points of her nipples, like hard little pebbles even through the thick lace. They're both so turned on now that their sensual gyrating motions have become more like writhing, neither able to stop because of the exquisite tension exponentially coiling itself in each of their centers.

"I've never... been with... a girl before..." Bonnie says in a series of exhales as Nora coats her cheeks, jaw, and neck with tongue-swirling kisses.

"I must warn you, you'll never want to go back," Nora replies with a playful smirk, and combined with the soft glaze of lust sheening on both of their bodies the majesty of the brief expression is burned into Bonnie's memory forever.

"Pretty sure I've already made it to that point." She hooks her fingers just inside the elastic band of Nora's panties and moves them slowly, teasingly back and forth, every now and then hinting toward a reach farther downward that makes Nora almost imperceptibly thrust up toward her.

"Well then, nothing to worry about." The brunette takes Bonnie's right wrist in her hands and gently guides it toward her silky folds, shuddering as direct contact is made for the first time. "Do you ever... touch yourself?" she whispers.

Bonnie blushes even as her hand explores Nora's most intimate place. She hesitates and bites her lip a bit before smiling and quietly answering, "Yes."

"Well I know this will sound obvious, but it really is true. Just think of it as the same thing but in reverse. Start with what you're already comfortable doing, and we'll go from there." Nora grins wide as she slips off her underwear in less time than it takes Bonnie to blink. "Are you sure?"

"I'm at the point where I will definitely tell if I'm unsure about anything."

"Okay," Nora says adorably. "I— _ohhh…_ "

She trails off and her head slowly falls back as the pads of Bonnie's fingers find the warm wetness below and slowly drag upward, the soft yet slightly calloused skin gently raking against the hooded bundle of nerves tucked within. Bonnie savors the fact that she's making this powerful vampire-witch lose her mind for a moment before she presses her lips to Nora's neck, sucking and licking and loving as her hand does another agonizingly slow down-up motion. This time there's nothing imperceptible about Nora's thrust, which presses the full breadth of her heat into Bonnie's palm, a primal loss of control that somehow makes the witch even more turned on than she already was. She's almost delirious from how badly she wants Nora to touch her, but somehow her fingers keep their rhythm consistent. The index and middle digits surround Nora's clit the same way they do when Bonnie plays with herself, and it seems to be doing the trick for her partner as well; her eyes are closed in contentment as she forcefully grinds in time with each pass. "That... feels _so_ good, Bonnie..."

Bonnie reaches around to Nora's back with her other hand and fiddles with the back of her bra. "Can I take this off?" she asks, her mouth just centimeters from Nora's ear.

"Only if you... catch up. So it's— _OH my God_... so it's fair."

"Okay." Bonnie gently withdraws her hand and goes to undress, but Nora stops her.

"Sorry, but— may I?"

Bonnie giggles. "Yeah."

Nora brings their bodies close together in a sort of hug, each of them reaching for the other's clasp and undoing the hooks, except for Nora it takes about ten milliseconds and Bonnie's still trying to release the last catch. She laughs. "Showoff."

"Guilty. Now show off for me."

Bonnie finally separates the straps and then sits back away from Nora a bit, letting her bra slide off her shoulders and down her outstretched arms. She tears her eyes away from the magnetic sight of Nora's bare right shoulder and meets her gaze as it sweeps over the witch's body. No one has ever looked at her the way Nora does. It's exhilarating.

"Now yours," Bonnie says, scooting forward.

Nora raises her eyebrows and points to Bonnie's bottoms, which were conspicuously still being worn. "One for one. Fair's fair."

They stare at each other: part teasingly, as if waiting for the other to laugh, and part devotionally, like they were the only two people in the world. They each remove their remaining garments without breaking eye contact, until Bonnie gets impatient and looks down and takes in the sight before her and then Nora is on top of her and they're kissing like they've never kissed before, tongues dueling and dancing as their hands drift up thighs and down stomachs until their fingers enter each other at the same time and their lips stop moving and just sort of press firmly together as walls relax and they start moving, Nora's thumb and forefinger perfectly kneading the exact right spots both inside and out, Bonnie's hand sort of cupped toward her as Nora rides her and grinds against her palm. Their lips sluggishly separate and they both look into the deep green of the other's eyes with their foreheads and noses still joined, ever so slowly increasing their paces in unison.

Right now Bonnie is exploding and solidifying, satisfied but insatiable, at peace and on fire. The way Nora's touching her is making jets of impossible pleasure shoot through her entire body, unraveling, like she's finally being unscrewed, or coiling, converging into density onto that one heavenly spot? She can't decide. It doesn't matter.

"You're so... good—" Bonnie means to finish with _at this_ but the words leave her as Nora slows slightly but adds pressure, and Bonnie's thighs squeeze around her hand in response, accompanied by a soft " _fuck_ " that's more of an exhale than an utterance.

"So are you," Nora says, almost as breathily. As she starts to move her hips harder and faster the witch ever so gently slips another in and starts to rub along Nora's front wall in time with her gyrations, a move that proves successful based on the way Nora grips the sheet next to them into a tight fist with her free hand and abandons a lazy kiss for a loud, low moan that's pretty much the sexiest sound Bonnie has heard in her entire life. "Bonnie, y— I... I— oh my _G—_ " Nora goes silent and shudders a bit, holding her breath in as Bonnie feels her pulse and contract around her fingers, still moving them while Nora rides out the waves of ecstasy. The dark, shifting veins surface below her closed eyes and her fangs grow a little, but Bonnie isn't scared. She just watches in awe.

When it's done Nora half-collapses and buries her head in the crook of Bonnie's neck, still twitching and shivering. As she catches her breath her satisfied rasp floats into Bonnie's ear: "That... Was..."

Bonnie beams. "Really?" She's still bursting with her own unfulfilled arousal, but the sight and sound and feel of Nora coming undone atop her is euphoric in itself. She looks down at her hand with newfound appreciation.

"I mean, I can't even _believe_ —" Nora pauses, then a fleeting flicker sparks in her eyes like she's just realized something, and she grins mischievously as she stares at Bonnie. "Hey, guess what?" she finally asks.

"What?"

"If all those weeks ago you had actually ripped my tongue out, I wouldn't be able to do this."

And all of a sudden Nora's not staring at Bonnie anymore, and her face is buried between the witch's thighs just as she showers the space with kisses before closing her lips around the swollen nub and it's like white-hot heaven permeates every inch of Bonnie's skin, anchored to earth by Nora's mouth and tongue yet soaring through a dizzy exosphere of pleasure. Her hips buck erratically in reaction to the stimulation but Nora never slips from her flawless rhythm, her hands planted on Bonnie's sides below her waist, keeping her still but also sort of pulling her in. Bonnie's back is arched and her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth hangs open when Nora swirls a finger around her entrance before slowly sliding it in, perfectly joining and meeting the tempo of her sucks and swirls from below, and it only takes what could be about fifteen seconds or an entire eternity before the swell within Bonnie finally breaks and she dissolves under Nora's touch, currents of bliss flooding her whole body. This is a whole new level for her and the feeling is a bit overwhelming at first, but then it tempers slightly into a delicious tumult of fire and ice that gradually eases her back down to earth.

When she lets a long-held breath out and relaxes her tensed muscles Nora ceases her motions and looks up at Bonnie. The majestic sight of Nora's dazed irises and swollen lips glistening with traces of her is almost enough to send her over the edge again. Bonnie beams and laughs giddily, her brain still flooded with sweet dopamine. She can barely feel her legs. "Holy shit, Nora," she manages to get out.

The brunette crawls toward Bonnie and lies down next to her, both of them turning on their sides so that they're facing each other. "So it was good?" Nora asks, her roguish grin belying the fact that she already knows the answer.

She's earned the cockiness though.

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it," Bonnie replies, scooting her body closer to Nora's and tangling their arms and legs together, limbs and minds so densely intertwined that neither of them can tell where they begin and the other ends. They lean toward each other into a languid kiss, and the feeling only intensifies the enveloping afterglow Bonnie's wrapped in. She tilts her head back until it's in a comfortable spot on one of her pillows. As her eyes slowly shut she squeezes Nora tighter and whispers, "Thank you for being you."

And then she's out.

* * *

She wakes to the first hints of orange sunlight creeping in the windows and Nora's breathtaking eyes, which somehow always seem to produce their own soft light. They're still cuddled up but in a slightly different position than they were when Bonnie fell asleep: now her arms thread under Nora's neck and drape over her hip, while both of the other girl's limbs are wrapped tightly around Bonnie, koala-style. Nora's lying so that Bonnie is putting just enough weight on her so that the slender leg tucked in the curve of her left side isn't uncomfortable; she sort of feels weightless, even.

"Hi," Nora whispers.

"Hey."

They both smile and lazily press their lips together. When they finally pull away Bonnie shakes off the wakeup veil and her eyes widen. "Oh my God, my breath is probably so terrible. I didn't brush my teeth last night."

"No, it's actually quite nice. You taste like..."—Nora ponders for a moment and then kisses her again—"cinnamon. And peppermint."

"Bullshit."

"Okay yes"—they both giggle—"but it really isn't bad. How's mine?"

"Perfect, as always. I guess vampires don't have to worry about smelly mouth bacteria, huh?"

"Correct. Although I will say—as much as I deride this new era, oral hygiene really has improved. I saw some nasty sets of chompers in Europe, believe you me."

Bonnie laughs. "Gotta pick your poisons."

"Bloody hell, it's Christmas morning, isn't it?" Nora squeezes Bonnie even harder than she already was. "Happy Christmas, Bonnie."

"Merry Christmas, Nora."

Nora kisses her on the forehead and then gives her a pointed look. "Were you not expecting a gift from me last night?"

"No, not really. I thought you getting Damon back was it."

"Well that would be a rubbish only-gift!" Nora moves like she's about to get out of bed but then grumbles and plops back down. "Damn it, it's still in your car."

"That's okay, I didn't want you to leave anyway." Their bodies enlace once again. "How do you feel about lunch at Ric's place today? I mentioned it last night but you didn't say anything."

Nora frowns. "Are you really sure he wants me to come?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if he hadn't already said he was cool with it. He doesn't blame you for what happened to Jo, Nora. He blames Kai, who's dead. He's not angry anymore; he just misses her. And he trusts me."

"Okay." She brightens. "When are we expected?"

"Noon, he said. Which leaves us…"—Bonnie reaches for her phone—"...roughly three and a half hours."

Nora shuts her eyes and smiles. "Mmmmm." The low sound reverberates through Bonnie's whole body. "You have said _many_ sexy things, but I think that one's my new favorite."

"So much time to do absolutely nothing. With you."

"Music to my ears," Nora says, and then is still for a moment. "Speaking of which, it's snowing."

"How do you know?"

The heretic smiles. "I can hear it."

Bonnie sighs. "Ugh, that is so cool. I'll never get used to it."

"Here, wait." Bonnie feels Nora's fingertips brush the top of her head and all of a sudden her ears are filled with a chorus of hundreds of tiny delicate impacts. "Can you…?"

Bonnie's eyes widen. "Yeah, I can. How are you doing that?"

"I'm sure you're aware that feeling around other people's minds is a quintessential vampire thing. I've never been much good at it, properly at least, but just transmitting a sense hardly takes effort at all."

Bonnie listens to the snow a while longer. She closes her eyes and smiles. "This is beautiful." She doesn't have to open them to know that Nora's leaning in to kiss her; it's like a sixth sense at this point.

But then she gets a sudden burst of energy and gets an idea. "Hey, let's get up and make coffee and wrap ourselves in blankets and eat breakfast and listen to Christmas music and watch the snow fall."

"That's... incredibly specific for what sounded like a passing thought. But every detail you added made it sound more appealing. So I'm all for it."

"Excellent." Bonnie grins. "Hey, Nora."

"Yes?"

"I'm really glad I didn't rip your tongue out."

"Me too, Bonnie."

* * *

After a cozy Christmas morning of cuddling before the crackling fire, eating the vegan cinnamon rolls Bonnie had gotten from the little hippie mom-and-pop bakery in town, and kissing, kissing, and more kissing—along with Nora getting Bonnie off one more time with her fingers—they're on their way to Ric's, the car moving at a snail's pace as Bonnie cautiously navigates the unplowed roads. She smiles and reaches up to her neck to feel her new necklace for the millionth time; Nora's gift had been an elegantly cut amethyst (Bonnie's birthstone) set in a beautiful miniature metal mandala on a silver chain that she had also spelled with a basic but long-lasting defense charm. "So some of me will always be there to protect you," Nora had said, which just about made Bonnie's entire heart melt into goo. "You can always feel safe with me."

Ric actually seems happy to see them when he answers the door of his small house; Bonnie wasn't expecting him to be a complete wreck, but she wasn't sure how he was doing on his first Christmas without Jo, or if he even actually wanted Bonnie to come over in the first place. Yet he's all smiles as he welcomes them into the well-warmed foyer, and they can smell the aroma of sautéed vegetables, some sort of simmering sauce, and something else—peppermint, maybe?

"You're cooking?" Bonnie asks in disbelief as she takes off her coat.

"I'm hosting a Christmas meal, what did you expect?" he answers, chuckling. "We'll see how well it actually goes, though."

"It smells amazing, Alaric," Nora comments.

Bonnie's a bit apprehensive to see his face when he turns to her date, but there's nothing other than warmth in it when he says, "Thanks, Nora. And you can call me Ric."

They all walk into the kitchen/living room area, where he offers both girls some eggnog. "...DAIRY AND EGG FREE," he quickly clarifies when he sees Bonnie's skeptical expression. "But the right amount of kick for getting just a _little_ too day-drunk." Nora laughs.

"Has there been any word on Damon yet?" Bonnie asks as she sits down and takes a sip of her drink.

She already mostly expects the answer he gives: "No. Stefan called Tyler and Elena's coffin is safe, locked down tight. No mass murders reported along the route from Mystic Falls to NYC yet either, so that's a good sign."

"What about Enzo? Has anyone seen him since he ambushed us in Ohio?" Nora adds.

"No news on that front either. No one's had any luck with locator spells and he hasn't contacted anyone."

"I feel like that's... not good," Bonnie remarks.

"Definitely not good. But there isn't much we can do right now." Ric walks to the stove to stir something. "Almost done. Hey, Bonnie, speaking of New York; did you give any more thought to that grad program I told you about?"

Nora gives her a quizzical look. Bonnie shifts uncomfortably. She'd rather talk about literally anything else, including dangerous killer vampire mysteries, than her own future. Even to two of the people she trusts most in the world right now. "Not really," she finally answers. "Had a lot on my mind."

"Of course," he says quickly. "I just hope you keep it in mind. I have this terrible thought of you staying here despite wanting otherwise because you feel like we need your help. You gotta put yourself first, Bonnie. You deserve that more than any of us."

"Thanks, Ric." She turns to Nora and mouths, _I'll tell you later_ , and the brunette nods, smiles, and reaches for Bonnie's hand, which she squeezes in just the right way and the world realigns.

"Alright, ambiguous holiday pasta dish of debatable quality has been finished. Come and get it."


End file.
